


Love Like You

by blutopaz15



Series: Post S3 Fics [4]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Book: Through the Moon (The Dragon Prince), Comfort, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Love, Love Languages, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, With a side of angst, edit: ok more than a side of angst, expect lots of snuggles flirting and sweet sweet rayllum kisses!, just these two sweet dorks being sweet and dorky, mid-Through the Moon, moon nexus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blutopaz15/pseuds/blutopaz15
Summary: Rebuilding the Moonhenge isn't the only thing Callum and Rayla are working on at the Moon Nexus.ORTen ways that Callum and Rayla express their love for each other during the events of Through the MoonCOMPLETE!
Relationships: Callum & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Rayllum - Relationship
Series: Post S3 Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018518
Comments: 165
Kudos: 172





	1. words of affirmation, part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finally, FINALLY figured out an angle for the during-Through the Moon fic that I've been dying to write!!
> 
> I present to you, Rayllum and the five love languages during Through the Moon, specifically pages 74 and 75 (the ~two weeks they spend rebuiliding the Moonhenge).
> 
> Rayla giving Callum some sweet, sweet 'Words of Affirmation' is up first!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: [Click here for a playlist that goes with this fic!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Smxg1y4aCyvEMhK3FHGVv?si=I_z9fe77SMqOQLIL3NDDtQ)

All she had managed to do all day was admire Callum. 

This morning, she had felt like her head was spinning as she listened to Callum and Allen’s conversation jump rapidly from the measurements of the base of one scaffold, to the best angle to support the weight of the broken pieces of the Moonhenge, to the logistics of raising the heavy pieces of stone into place. She was sure from the confident and breezy way that Callum seamlessly slid from one topic to another that it _was_ all connected, but she couldn’t, for the life of her, keep up with _how_. The words were all a foggy blur...mostly because she’d given up on listening about ten minutes into their work to instead watch Callum’s eyes sparkle and lips move and hands gesture. Even peering over Callum’s shoulder at the neatly drawn but sloppily labelled sketches didn’t enlighten her: it only made her stomach flip with wonder at his ability to create such a thing. She smiled to herself watching him lean over the table studiously and admired the way his eyes glinted just before he exclaimed about a new idea. 

At some point, once they’d _really_ lost her, Rayla had quietly slipped away from the large wooden table, deciding to leave the planning to Callum and Allen. She found a nice soft spot in the grass and drifted lazily between dozing off--she still hadn’t been sleeping well--and fondly watching her sweet human prince from afar. 

And that was pretty much where she’d stayed all day. Occasionally, Callum had popped over to visit her where she sat in the grass. 

“You okay?” He’d asked in the afternoon. Her heart swelled at his casual concern for her.

“I’m great,” she’d smiled. 

It was mostly true, aside from the boredom and the slight twinge of guilt she felt at not yet being able to contribute to their work. These feelings were almost completely overpowered, though, by the pleasure of watching Callum, bright-eyed and talking a mile a minute, work. She’d spent all day smiling to herself like a fool while her heart continued to swell and swell and swell with love for him.

Her lovesick daze had not faded as she leaned a yellow-clad shoulder against the door to their shared dormitory. He was where she’d left him, sitting at the desk by her bed, bent over the same mess of papers he’d toted around with him all over the place, from Allen’s workstation, to the Moonhenge, and now back to this room. 

“Still working?” She asked, tossing her bundle of clothes onto the side of her bed. She felt a little silly at how admiringly she gazed at the back of his head.

“Hmm?” He asked, clearly having missed what she’d asked. He tugged at the red cuff around his wrist, pulling the sleeves of his pajamas up to his elbows, out of the way of his work on the page. His hand kept moving, pushing charcoal across the page in tiny strokes. She walked over to the desk, placing her hands along the short end of the table in order to lean over and look at what he was doing. A page was ripped out of his book, and she was surprised to see him doing _math_ , of all things. His sketchbook laid open to his left with images of pillars and scaffolds littering the page.

“What’s this?” She bent at the waist, resting her elbows on the desk and her chin in one of her hands. She followed his fingers with her eyes as he began to explain, tracing along the lines of the sketch.

“The northeast pillar has this huge chunk missing, but it’s at this really awkward angle, so we’re going to have to build _two_ scaffolds that fit together like _this_.” He demonstrated the angle with his hands. “So, I was trying to figure out how long the top of each scaffold is going to have to be and what angle to put them at in order to support the weight and still fit together.” She raised an eyebrow.

“And you know how to figure that out?” She looked up from the page to his face inquisitively, her awe of him only growing.

“Well...kind of.” His eyes left the page to look up at the ceiling. “In theory. I’m trying.” He shrugged and met her gaze. _Trying for her_ , she thought, feeling her heart flutter a little in her chest.

“How do you know how to do that?” She asked, leaning closer to look at the numbers scrawled on the scrap paper.

“It’s just math,” he responded, shrugging again. “See?” he asked. He pointed to the last equation he’d solved.

She shook her head. The numbers and symbols were familiar to her, of course, but it would take her a long while to decipher the logic behind each line. “I’m terrible at math.”

“I’m okay at it if I can picture what I’m solving,” his eyes wandered to the ceiling, then down to his papers, out the window, to his lap, to the ceiling again--looking anywhere but at her. 

“So, you draw it?” She clarified moving her head to the side a little, in hopes of catching his eye as he blinked around the room.

“Yeah. I do okay then, if I draw it.” His voice cracked a little and his clear discomfort puzzled her. She recognized this variation on the ‘dumb idea face’ as the ‘sad prince’ face. He’d lost the light he’d had all day, and his positivity was replaced with downcast uncertainty. She could understand if he wore this expression if they were talking about something he was _bad_ at, but clearly he was _good_ at this. Good at problem-solving, good at drawing (of course), and, apparently, good at math, too.

“More than just okay, I think.” She said with a smile. He continued to stare at the page, so she reached a hand to touch his shoulder. When he looked up, a corner of his mouth twitched upward in reaction to her attempt at reassurance, but she could see he didn’t really buy it with his lukewarm response.

“I guess,” he said mildly. She shook her head and walked around behind the chair to stand on his left now, enabling her to look more closely at his renderings of the Moonhenge in his sketchbook.

“No, seriously, Callum. _Look_ at all of this!” She gestured broadly across the table, pleased that he, at least, seemed to be listening to her now, watching her with the slightest blush staining his cheeks at her compliments. “This is...impressive.” It felt good to let out some of the affection that’d been building up inside of her all day.

“I don’t know about _that…_ ” He was smiling now, at least, but she was growing frustrated at how dense this self-deprecation of his was. She rolled her eyes and grabbed him by both shoulders to look directly at him as she continued to stubbornly shower him with praise. His eyes widened in surprise as she jostled him and the little red cuffs at the ends of his sleeves fell back down around his wrists again. 

“Callum. You’re rebuilding ancient ruins.” She spoke slowly, squeezing his shoulders for emphasis. She hoped his intense look back at her was because he was really, truly listening. Though, she thought, their proximity at the moment might have something to do with his pink-cheeked stare. She could feel his breath on her cheek. “You’re figuring out how all of the pieces fit together, and designing scaffolds, and doing _math,_ and coming up with ideas and solutions and…and you’re _good_ at it. Talented.” She paused and watched her fingers trail down his arms to hold both of his hands. She knelt down next to where he sat sideways in his chair, to grin up at him encouragingly. “Callum, the fact that you can do all of that...it’s amazing.”

“Well, thanks.” She was finally pleased with his response, mostly because there was light glimmering in his eyes again. Her heart skipped a beat as his eyes got a little squinty with the fullness of his smile.

“And you’re doing all of that for _me_ ,” she said, her voice faltering now. The wide grin fell from her lips in favor of a softer, more gentle smile. “Thank you,” she whispered, made breathless by recognition of his dedication to her. He let go of one of her hands to touch his fingertips gently to her cheek and she leaned into his touch.

“Anything for you, Rayla.” She believed him and felt her smile grow again. She caught herself before listening to the impulse to follow his hand as his fingers pulled away from her face. Then, to her displeasure, the excuses started again. “It’s...really not that big of a deal, though. Doing _math_ isn’t exactly a special skill. Lots of people can do math.” With another eye-roll and the addition of an exasperated sigh, she brought her hands up to his cheeks now, holding his face in place to force him to look right at her.

“Callum, _you_ are special.” She paused after each word, trying to pour out all of her feelings for him into each one.

“Oh.” She would have laughed at how silly his lips looked, all squished together by the way she squeezed his cheeks, had she not been so focused on getting through to him.

“You. Not just the math or the drawing or even the magic.” She released her hold on his cheeks and grasped at his shoulders again, still kneeling in front of him. “ _You_ are special. I love _you_ .” He took a breath to respond and she put a finger to his lips to stop him from flipping the conversation around. “I love you.” She repeated, then replaced her finger with her lips. The warmth of his lips on hers made her head swim with affection, despite how brief her kiss was. The dorky, dopey, _sweet_ way he smiled at her when she pulled away almost made her roll her eyes again. Instead, her fingers wandered to brush his hair out of his eyes. “Now then...now that _that’s_ settled…bedtime?”

“Not yet.” He shook his head slightly but the silly little smile still remained. She was about to protest, but he clarified before she could. “Come here first,” he said, opening his arms.

She smiled back and fell into them gratefully, her head fitting perfectly under his chin. Her heart swelled again as she surrendered to the warmth and safety of his embrace. “I love you, too,” he said. She wrapped her arms around him snugly, hoping that her words had made him feel even _half_ as good as she felt right now.


	2. acts of service, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum cleans their room at the Moon Nexus and thinks about all of the reasons why he likes sharing his space with Rayla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this chapter is pretty much me dumping a ton of my Rayllum cohabitation headcanons into writing. *shrug*
> 
> I am planning on getting a *little* more into poor Rayla's angst over the course of this fic and the end of this chapter has a little snippet of that.
> 
> Enjoy more of these sweeties loving each other! :)
> 
> UPDATE: [Click here for a playlist that goes with this fic!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Smxg1y4aCyvEMhK3FHGVv?si=I_z9fe77SMqOQLIL3NDDtQ)

Callum very much liked sharing a room with Rayla so far.

He liked the way she peered over his shoulder whenever he sat at his desk drawing. She’d asked if he minded the first few times she approached the back of his chair, and, of course, he didn’t. Now, whenever she was near while he drew, she glanced over. Sometimes she even pressed a kiss to the crown of his head as she walked by.

He liked the messiness of her hair when she woke up in the morning before she had a chance to fix it. His favorite morning so far had been when she had let him smooth it down for her. He wouldn’t have been shocked if she’d swatted at his fingers in her hair, but instead she gave him that dreamy-eyed stare normally reserved for between kisses and thanked him.

He liked the way she looked wearing his pajamas: relaxed and warm. The first night she’d slept there in the castle, he’d made a point to get back to their room ahead of her to lay them across her pillow. She had thanked him then, too, when she realized they were his as he pulled out his own matching set. He loved that they were  _ his _ pajamas that she looked so comfortable in.

He  _ especially _ liked the shy way she asked to cuddle with him. The first time he’d laid down in bed with a book since they’d been back, she’d quietly appeared next to his bed, shifting her weight back and forth nervously, hands clasped behind her back. She had blushed and looked so  _ sincere _ when she mumbled her question: “Can I join you?” Now, it’d become a habit and she didn’t even have to ask. Whenever he looked up from his book to see her standing at the end of his bed, wearing that sweet, blushy smile, he just scooted over, raising an arm for her to slide under. She always kissed his cheek before settling in against his side. That was his favorite part.

Undoubtedly, though, the very best thing about sharing a room with Rayla was the reassurance that she was always there, just across from him, the first and last person he saw every day. He loved the way they met in the middle of the room to kiss each other goodnight and the way she stretched her arms above her head when she got out of bed each morning. He hated that he’d missed out on those little moments after they’d fought the other night.

The only problem with sharing a room with Rayla, as far as Callum could tell, was that Rayla was  _ messy.  _

Not that he was particularly neat himself. He’d made an effort though, since starting to share a space with her, to at least contain his mess—papers scattered on the desk and clothes scattered on his bed instead of on the floor. He had to admit that he  _ did  _ like the way her small, but growing, collection of belongings intermingled with his all over their room in Katolis and now here at the Moon Nexus. The book she had started reading—mostly to humor his enthusiasm for it, he thought—always seemed to make its way back to his desk. Her bag always hung on his chair. But, he was less fond of other pieces of their cohabitative mess. It seemed that it had gotten worse and worse, too. Just within the few days they’d spent here, it had already gotten to the point of overtaking the dormitory they were sharing.

So, he decided to clean up.

He started with her bed. The pillowcase had twisted all around the pillow, the bottom half of the fluffy white inside hanging out. He fixed this first before pulling the blanket up off the ground and back into place, smoothing it down and tucking it under either side of the mattress. 

On his way from one side of the bed to the other, he encountered the pile of pajamas she’d abandoned on the ground. He had watched this morning as she had hurriedly tossed the bundle in the general direction of her bed from just inside the door before turning to him and taking his hand. She’d missed her mark, but not by much. He picked them up, shook them out, and laid them across the bed, now made up. 

He repeated a similar process for his bed and his pair of pajamas, which had been crumbled up in a ball on top of his pillow, then grabbed the towels she’d used the other night before bed from the ground and draped them over the bed frame

He turned now to the desk and smiled slightly at the half-eaten jelly tart from the batch that Ezran had roped Soren into helping him bake yesterday in the makeshift kitchen they’d pieced together for their stay here. Rayla had abandoned the pastry after dinner last night. He took a bite and then brushed the crumbs off of the pile of books it had sat upon. He gathered the sheets of paper he’d left littered in every corner of the desk to stack them more neatly, leaving just enough space for his open sketchbook between the books and the pile of papers.

Popping the rest of the tart in his mouth, he looked now to the doorway to take care of the least pleasant part of the mess: the gobs of mud she’d left next to the doorway after her day spent sparring. When she’d taken off her boots, clods of dirt had fallen off all around her. She’d even managed to get some in the black hood that laid against her back. She’d turned it inside out and what seemed like an entire puddle’s worth of dried mud landed on the floor, and that’s where the dirt had stayed since.

He glanced around for something to sweep the dirt up with and found nothing. With a snap as the idea dawned on him, he flung the doors open and positioned himself on the other side of the mud. He bent down and drew the rune for  _ aspiro _ , blowing the brown clumps out of the room through the open doorway. The open doorway…in which Rayla now stood. Oops.

“Cute blow spell is losing its charms,” she grumbled as he rushed to her. She flicked a particularly large clump of dirt off of her shoulder with an eye roll.

“Sorry!” He brushed a few smaller pieces out of her hair while she shook off the rest of the dirt, just outside the door. She glanced over his shoulder, and her eyes softened. 

“Oh,” she said, eyebrows raising as she realized what he’d done. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

“Sure,” he shrugged with a smile.

“Sorry about all that.” He frowned at the way her expression hardened again. She looked at the ground and held her elbows in her hands.

In an effort to reassure her, he pulled one of her hands away from her body to hold it in the space between them. “It’s okay. I’m messy too,”

“I just...it’s been hard to care about any of that.” She looked up at him with the same pain in her eyes that had kept appearing over and over again throughout the past week. “I’ve…”

“Had a lot on your mind?” He finished her sentence, and she nodded slightly. “I know. It’s okay, Rayla. I  _ like _ taking care of you.” He said, squeezing her hand a little tighter.

“But—”

“Nope, no buts. You take care of the people you love. So I cleaned our room. Because I love you.” He was a little proud to have finally gotten a smile out of her. She wove their fingers together.

“Thanks, Callum.”


	3. quality time, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weather is too bad to work on rebuilding the Moonhenge, so Rayla offers to pose for Callum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Kind of a long chapter today, and it'll be a two-parter! The next chapter (physical touch, part 1) will be a direct continuation of this one. I'm alternating PoV's so the next chapter will be from Callum's perspective. I have to admit...physical touch leaked into this one *just* a little bit. These couple of chapters, and maybe one more down the road, are the reason for the T rating on this fic...just some flirty, hormonal (slightly suggestive) teenage awkwardness!
> 
> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments you are inclined to leave :)
> 
> UPDATE: [Click here for a playlist that goes with this fic!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Smxg1y4aCyvEMhK3FHGVv?si=I_z9fe77SMqOQLIL3NDDtQ)

She frowned at how the rain streamed down even more steadily from the sky than it had when they’d first woken up. They’d dashed across the wet grass around breakfast time first to confirm with Allen that the weather was too bad to work today, then to the other moon dorm where Soren and Ezran had been staying to try to pass the time. Callum had excused himself after an hour or so, and she’d followed soon after, finding him back at the desk. 

She’d deflated a little bit when she came in and saw him so focused, hoping that his leaving had been an excuse to spend some time alone. He’d been engrossed in his work on a more artistic and less calculated rendering of the Moonhenge when she’d glanced at his sketchbook on her way in. She didn’t have the heart to blatantly  _ ask _ him to close the book or the resolve to actually act on the scenarios that’d been running through her head. She imagined closing his sketchbook for him and settling herself right in its place on the desk to be the center of his attention instead. She didn’t want to mess up his work, though. In another, she imagined demanding his attention with a kiss to his cheek after draping herself across his lap.  _ That _ she certainly didn’t have the nerve to do. So she paced. And waited. And paced some more.

“How can you be so  _ still  _ for so  _ long _ ?” She complained as she paced from the edge of her bed to the window for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. 

“Mmm...years of practice,” he hummed cheerily. She tapped a hand up and down rapidly against the window sill, full of restless energy. It was everything she could do to not run laps around the room.

“Ugh,” she groaned when lightning lit up the sky and the sound of the rain grew louder outside. She turned her back to the window and pursed her lips as she stared at the back of Callum’s annoyingly calm, annoyingly focused head. A third scenario ran through her mind that made her blush. She was grateful, then, that he  _ wasn’t _ looking at her. Then, a fourth, which actually seemed doable, though markedly less romantic. She sauntered up dramatically to the side of his desk, tilting over sideways at the waist with her hands behind her back innocently to look at him once she’d crossed the room. “Oh, Callum?” She said in a sing-songy voice. He glanced up with an inquisitive smile. “I’m bored.”

“I think I heard that somewhere before...maybe in the last ten minutes or so?” The crook of his hand rested against his chin, as if he was actually contemplating. She wanted to be mad at him but she couldn’t contain the little smile his teasing brought to her lips. The smug look on his face made her wonder if he could tell that her complaint was  _ really _ about wanting his attention specifically. Either way, his little smirk was equal parts annoying and  _ adorable _ .  _ Ugh.  _

“Haha,” she said flatly, unwilling to completely melt into an undignified puddle of affection like she wanted to. 

“Well, what do you want to do?” He asked, touching the spot where she’d just flicked him in the shoulder.

“Mmmm...I don’t know.” She meandered to his chair and threw her arms over his shoulders as she stood behind him, keeping up the melodramatic, restless energy. She rested her cheek on the top of his head for a moment before perking up with an idea. “I know! You should draw me!” She stepped away from the chair and placed her hands on her hips, flashing a bright smile. “I’ll pose,” she exclaimed with bravado.

He looked at her, turning to sit sideways in his chair now. “You know that’s going to require staying  _ still, _ right?” A single eyebrow was raised.

“I can be still for  _ you _ ,” she said with a shrug. Driving her intention to flirt home, she winked and was satisfied when the expected blush spread across Callum’s face. They were still and silent for a moment, evaluating each other’s expressions. She smirked; he stared. Her eye-roll broke the spell.

“Oh, come on,” she said, stepping closer to pull him up by an arm. He snagged his sketchbook and charcoal as he moved over to his bed. “Now then,” she started. “What should I do?” She bounced over to her bed and sat upright, almost prim and proper. “I could sit like this...or this could be interesting.” She had flipped over to hang her head off the end of the bed upside down. 

In the next moment, she flung her legs over her head and landed on her feet in the middle of the room. As she straightened up, she said, “or I guess I could stand. But how?” Now she brought her hand to her chin as she looked towards the ceiling, thinking. After a moment, she looked over to see him sitting at the end of his bed, smiling at her with amusement. “You pick,” she said, smiling back. 

He looked a little taken aback for a moment while his face remained stained pink, but he stood and walked closer to her with little hesitation. Her breath caught in her throat when his hand made contact with the small of her back, gently turning her around. She hadn’t yet grown used to the strange combination of relief and comfort and  _ warmth _ that she felt when he touched her. The way her heart swelled when he took her hand was simple and clear, but otherwise, his touch made her chest tighten and her body relax and her stomach flip, all at once. That feeling made her face red too. It had only gotten worse since they’d become a  _ thing _ , which seemed odd to her because shouldn’t his touch be  _ more _ familiar,  _ more _ comfortable now? Shouldn’t she be getting used to it?

“Let’s try by the window,” he said, guiding her there. She turned to face him on her own when they reached their destination, looking expectantly at him for direction. His hands immediately found her waist, backing her gently against the window sill with just the light pressure of his fingers against her, fogging her head even more thoroughly. His eyes flickered up from his hands to her eyes, and she felt the color that had started to accumulate in her cheeks spread to burn the tips of her ears too. His hands lingered for a moment, but before she could speak or catch his wrists to keep his hands at her waist, he broke his gaze to continue to work on guiding her pose. 

Next, his hands were pushing at her shoulders, angling her slightly toward the window and he gently grasped one of her wrists in order to pull her hand into place against the glass itself. His lips twitched into a smile when he looked her in the eye again. He brought his fingers up under her chin and he turned her head to look outside, where another bolt of lightning had appeared. She smiled at his gentle, sure touch and blushed a little deeper when his lips met her cheek. 

“Perfect,” he said. He stepped away, snagged his sketchbook from his bed, and moved to sit cross-legged on hers. She heard the rustle of paper as he turned to a fresh page and then the tiny scratch of charcoal against paper. “It’s nice to have a live model for once,” he remarked after a few moments

“Wait, what?” She tried not to turn her head towards him.  _ For once? _

“Instead of drawing from memory.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he didn’t quite get her meaning. 

“Drawing  _ me _ from memory?” 

“I’m, uh,  _ very _ familiar with what you look like, Rayla.” His voice grew a little nervous, and she realized there was no hiding her smile from him while he was drawing her. She had no doubt that he could draw pretty much  _ anything _ from memory, but it made the stomach-flipping feeling return, even without his touch, hearing how  _ very _ much he paid attention, if he was  _ very _ familiar.

“You’ve drawn me before?” She clarified, enjoying the idea of Callum thinking of her and feeling the urge to commit the thoughts to paper.

“Well...yeah.” There was silence for a moment while she decided what to do with this confirmation.

“Can I see?” She finally asked. She  _ certainly _ didn’t want to tease him into  _ not _ drawing her anymore. The tiny noises his drawing produced had stopped for a moment, like he had been waiting to see what her reaction was going to be before continuing. He started up again.

“Right now?” He asked. She shrugged, careful to move just her shoulders slightly. 

“When we’re done, I guess.” A thought about if there were any sketches he  _ wouldn’t _ want her to see danced at the edge of her mind, and she quickly pushed it aside so she wouldn’t blush while he was studying her so carefully.

“Sure.” They fell into comfortable quiet for a while as she actually looked out the window at the storm outside. The wind had picked up, slanting the rain sideways. 

“Can you...feel that?” She asked. She wondered if he could feel it the same way she usually had a vague idea of the moon’s phase. She wasn’t sure, though, if that came from an actual  _ sense _ or just everyone around her always knowing and talking about it when she was a kid. 

“The storm?” He asked. Almost as if on cue, the wind whistled through the trees. She nodded, careful to return her head to its predetermined angle. “Yeah,” he answered.

“What does it feel like?” She asked, watching another bolt of lightning strike somewhere in the distance.

“Uh, I don’t know. Energy, I guess?” Her eyes were drawn over to him again as he shrugged.

“So why aren’t  _ you _ bouncing off the walls?” She said with a lilt of amusement. 

“Maybe energy is the wrong word.” He stopped drawing for a moment to consider. “Focus, maybe?”

“Bet you could pull off one hell of an  _ aspiro _ right now.” Her lips curled into a proud little smirk. He chuckled when he responded.

“Probably, yeah.”

“We should go outside so you can show off later, mage.” She winked at him again and, out of the corner of her eye, she could see him smiling.

“If you don’t mind getting rained on,” he said considerately.

“I’ll survive,” she said, smile widening into a grin. She resisted the urge to start tapping her fingers against the window again. She had to admit she was starting to get a little antsy, but she  _ had _ told Callum she could stay still for him. She continued to talk instead. “So, what do I normally look like when you draw me?”

“Pretty,” she tilted her head slightly towards him and rolled her eyes at the sappy expression on his face. Too sweet to make fun of. 

“Thanks, but I meant what am I normally  _ doing _ in the pictures?” She asked, moving her head back. 

“Being pretty.” She scoffed, and he laughed before continuing. “I like drawing you fighting because the poses are interesting. So there are a lot of those,” he explained.

“A lot?” She asked, wondering how many of these existed. The urge to look at him was getting a little overwhelming.

“Yeah. There are others too. Less pose-y, more pretty.” She couldn’t take it anymore, not when he kept calling her  _ pretty _ . She wanted to see his face while he did  _ that _ .

“Can I move my head?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She moved to fully look at him, keeping her hand in place against the window. She liked the way his eyes were so focused on her, mossy-green and intense. He met her gaze for a moment, then looked to her wrist. He glanced back down to add a stroke to his sketch, then glanced back up to her...waist? “I’m actually almost done. Just some...details to add.” It took a moment for the red across his cheeks to register.

“Callum, why are you all red?” She asked, wanting in on any reason to tease him some more. He looked away.

“N-no, no reason.” He kept his eyes suspiciously fixed on the paper in front of him. 

“Callum...spill.” If her threatening tone weren’t enough, she hoped the way she glared would be. 

“Okay, okay.” He still didn’t look up, but he continued to speak. His hand stopped moving across the page. “It’s just that it’s a little weird that you’re right here,  _ watching, _ while I...while I draw some  _ parts _ of you.” His eyes were trained steadily on the bedspread in front of him. She tried to contain the toothy grin that spread across her lips. Her eyebrows bolted upward too.

“And what parts would those be?” She snickered.

“Rayla--” He started, still reluctant to look right at her. The red was spreading beneath his collar now, and his face was somewhere between a pout and a scowl, embarrassment getting the better of him.

“Relax. I’m only teasing, Callum.” His face softened, but he still didn’t resume his drawing and his eyes shifted to the ground in front of where she stood. “Look at me.” He did. She could feel her own face heating again and her stomach doing somersaults. His discomfort was a little contagious. “It’s...okay. It’s okay to look at me...like that.” A glint of mischief in his expression made her smile again.

“Look at you like what?” He said, still red-faced, but smirking now. Maybe her feeling a little awkward too was a good thing if it lightened his embarrassment.

“You know what I mean,” she replied with a tiny eye roll that ended with her eyes on the ground now.

“Yeah. I do,” he said. “Only teasing,” he echoed. Looking up, she found him glancing between her and his sketchbook again as he drew. She watched his eyes on her hips, and the corners of his mouth curled upward ever so slightly. “Kind of impossible to draw you without,” he shrugged. She considered prodding further to ask,  _ without what? _ She let the silence sit instead, reveling in the breath-catching, butterfly-inducing warmth she felt watching him watch her. “Now  _ you’re _ red,” he commented. Well, if he was going to continue to taunt her...

“I mean, you  _ are _ staring at my ass,” she said, raising a single eyebrow, red-hot heat burning her ears now. His eyes left her hips.

“Nuh-uh, not now,” He grinned back. She was glad he seemed as willing to push through the awkwardness for the sake of their bantering as she was. 

“Oh, great. No need to blush! Callum’s _just_ staring at my--”

“Done!” He turned the book to her and smiled innocently. She let out a sigh as she lowered her arm and stepped towards him and his sketchbook to look more closely, leaning over at the waist. She’d anticipated the pose of her body, and took note of the subtle lines in the sketch that had made him blush, but his illustration of her face is what really surprised her.

“Do I really look like that?” She looked so...peaceful, staring out the window with the slightest smile. She wondered at how he could make her eyes so  _ expressive _ in just black and white.

“You did just then,” he put the sketchbook down, and her heart swelled with affection seeing his half-lidded, flirtatious gaze that’d been hidden behind his book. Before she could even appreciate the way he was looking at her now, he’d leaned forward to place a tortuously brief kiss to her lips. “Outside or more sketches?” He asked as he pulled away.

“Outside,” she said quietly, breath more than a little stolen by his kiss.


	4. physical touch, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum and Rayla have some fun kissing in the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza, I got a little carried away! 
> 
> This chapter is a direct continuation of the previous chapter both as far as the events go and as far as their raging hormones go, haha. This chapter is about as T-rated as this fic will get...just some kissing and maybe a *little* touchy-feely-ness at the end.
> 
> A few other things...
> 
> I made a playlist that goes with this fic! The tracks correspond to the chapters...most of them really just go with the general *vibe* of the chapter, but this one ("Sparks Fly") goes pretty well overall I think! [Click here to give it a listen!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Smxg1y4aCyvEMhK3FHGVv?si=I_z9fe77SMqOQLIL3NDDtQ)
> 
> Also, come find me on tumblr!! I'd love to follow more mutual Rayllum fans!! [My handle is the same.](https://blutopaz15.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy Rayllum making out in the rain!

He cringed as the heavy branch that had been in the path of his last spell splintered away from the trunk of the tree and tumbled to the ground. The next thing he heard, though, was Rayla snickering behind him and he immediately brightened as the sound pushed the partially-felled tree out of his mind. Hiding the instantaneous smile that had crept across his face, he turned with phony offense, ready to react dramatically to her laughter, but she beat him to the punch with her teasing.

“I said _show off_ , not _blow down the entire forest_ ,” she joked. Her laughter subsided but her face remained (adorably, he thought) scrunched up in amusement. Her hair was now thoroughly, _completely_ soaked through, turned silvery-gray and stuck flat against her forehead and cheeks and neck by the wind. He nearly reached out to smooth the stray pieces, but hesitated as, a second sooner, she reached up to wipe a stream of rainwater away from her forehead. She continued to grin at him. 

“Well, what can I say? You should’ve been more specific,” he smiled back, turning slightly away, arms crossed. He glanced back at her as her grin closed into a lopsided smirk and couldn’t help his expression from mirroring hers. Her little smirks were his favorite, mostly because her smile _always_ reached her eyes when she was smug. She wasn’t putting on a brave face when she was teasing him. So, he was happy to give her _all_ of the reasons to be smug she could ever want if it meant Rayla would keep looking like that...keep looking _at him_ like that.

Then, just as he thought she couldn’t possibly be _more_ beautiful, lightning in the distance reflected in her eyes, and it might as well have just struck him where he stood. He inhaled sharply, his eyes widening at the lovely sight before him. The bright flash had highlighted the pink in her eyes, and they glimmered with a hint of laughter and light as the sky darkened again and thunder rumbled. He knew that the smile that spread across his face--not smug or wry _at all_ \--was exactly the kind she had a tendency to tease him over...and, honestly, he hoped she would. 

In the meantime, fully expecting to be made fun of any second, he drifted closer to her and reached to lace their fingers together. She’d watched his hands as they stretched towards hers, allowing herself to be pulled a little closer. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe that he could just tug on her hand, or pat the spot next to him, or sometimes even just look at her meaningfully, and she’d willingly join him wherever without hesitation, no pretense needed. 

“Okay, next time I’ll be sure to...what?” She interrupted herself with the question after her eyes slowly slid up from where their hands were joined to meet his steady, lovesick stare. Her eyebrows raised and she looked at him expectantly.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, stepping a closer into her space, even nearer to her. Her smile softened, becoming far less sarcastic, as she looked from his eyes to his lips and stepped a little closer too. He hesitated for a moment, inches from her lips, to watch her lilac eyes flutter shut. His drifted closed as he eliminated the space between them. Then, before he’d even really had a chance to savor the warmth of her mouth on his, she was pulling away, chuckling softly: this time at the raindrop that had dripped from the tip of his nose to their joined lips. He blinked his eyes open and saw her smiling at him so, _so_ very gently and so, _so_ very close. He really, _really_ wanted to kiss those smiling lips again. Kiss those smiling lips _better._ “R-Rayla?” He said breathlessly despite the short duration of their kiss. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?” She closed her eyes again and the side of her nose rubbed against his delicately. The corners of his mouth twitched upward at the sweetness of the little touch and he rubbed his thumbs against her hands. 

“I want--I mean...do you want to kiss some more?” His heart warmed at the way she glanced to the side and blushed a just a bit before nodding and meeting his gaze.

This time, she leaned in towards him too, and he pressed his lips against hers, softly still. Her lips were so light and slow-moving against his, almost _tentative,_ maybe even _hesitant_ ...unusually so. It didn’t feel quite right. Not exactly _wrong_ , but...off. He broke away.

“Rayla, is something wrong?” He pulled their joined hands up into the space between their waists and squeezed.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she shrugged. Her answer seemed genuine enough, but he didn’t want her to just _humor_ his urge to keep kissing her.

“Are you sure?” He smiled at her reassuringly, tilting his head to the side. Letting go of one hand to wipe away a raindrop about to fall from the tip of her nose elicited a tiny, smiling eye-roll from her. His fingers drifted to her cheek and he tucked a wet lock of hair behind her ear, smiling fondly back. He tried not to let disappointment twinge his tone as he continued to speak. “We don’t have to keep kissing if you don’t—” She cut him off.

“Callum, I _definitely_ want to keep kissing you,” Her gaze cut away from his again and her cheeks went pink beneath where his fingers lingered. “It’s just that...well…” She shrugged again. “You were kissing me so... _gently_ , so...” 

“So what?” He wasn’t understanding her apparent disappointment. Wasn’t that a _nice_ thing, to kiss her gently? 

“ _So_ , I’m just waiting on _you.”_ She looked him in the eye again. He was sure from the way her free hand tapped him lightly in the chest that she was somehow teasing him, but he wasn’t sure exactly what the joke was.

“Huh?” He asked. She rolled her eyes, exasperated.

“If you want to kiss me, _kiss_ me, dummy.” He felt his face flush, finally catching her drift at the way she emphasized the word _kiss_ , But, before he could _kiss_ her, before he’d leaned towards her, or even closed his eyes, her lips were on his.

 _Oh_ . _Restraint_ , not hesitation _,_ had been what he sensed. Before he had even begun to process the forwardness of her kiss, Rayla was holding him captive, her hands in his hair. A long initial kiss gave way to another shorter one before she relaxed her hold on him.

He broke away with a chuckle in the back of his throat, prepared to remark on her _enthusiasm_ , but then her fingers were tugging at his collar and her eyes were open again. The fluttering in his chest intensified seeing the way she was looking at him—boldly, invitingly, _clearly_ looking for more. His cheeks burned and he felt a warm tingle spread in his chest, finding, perhaps, his new favorite expression of hers.

He moved back towards her and he could hear the quick breath she inhaled just before he kissed her again. Despite having told _him_ to kiss _her_ , she confidently set the pace: intense and eager...maybe a little _forceful_ even, too...and wonderfully, _wonderfully_ repetitive. He couldn’t have counted the number of times her lips connected with his if he tried. He quickly picked up on the rhythm and matched her enthusiasm, chasing after her lips in some moments and _being_ chased by hers in others. These were _not_ the sweet little kisses she gave him before saying good night, or the lazy, just-because-we-can kisses they snuck when they stumbled upon some alone time, or even the serious and relief-ridden kisses they’d had too many reasons to share. Her breath was too ragged on his cheek between kisses, her mouth too assertive against his, her hands too desperate at his collar to compare. She’d apparently stopped caring about the rainwater running down to their lips, too, as her fingers drifted from his collar to pull his hands to her sides. 

She sighed in reaction to the light pressure of his touch on her waist, and it made him blink his eyes open briefly in surprise. He shut them again, letting the thought of her making _more_ cute noises like that run rampant, before being further distracted by the way she gently pulled his lip between hers for the briefest moment. He couldn’t stop the tiny exclamation in his throat, and he hoped she didn’t take it the wrong way. His knees went a little weak when she did it again, apparently undeterred. Her tongue swiped briefly, tentatively, across his lip. 

So _, I’m just waiting on_ you _,_ echoed in his mind. Then, what was _he_ waiting for? He angled towards her, chasing her kiss again at the next opportunity in order to press _her_ lip between _his_ this time. When his tongue touched her bottom lip, she let her mouth fall open the tiniest bit, and, suddenly, the way he _wanted_ her shut off any semblance of inhibition he’d had. His tongue moved against her parted lips and then against her tongue. The warm, sweet taste of her kiss blurred with the touch of her hands now tangled in his hair again and the feeling of her waist beneath his fingers as he pulled her even closer. The warm summer rain, still streaming down all around them, was chilly in comparison to the feverish heat building between them. She pushed back at his tongue with hers and the warmth in his chest drifted down to flip his stomach. 

Despite the foggy, captivating haze of warmth she clouded his head with ** _,_** somehow the possibility that Ez and Soren might decide to look out their window while he and Rayla stood here, _making out,_ in the middle of the open clearing between buildings, managed to break through. He reached a hand to her cheek, slowing his kiss as his tongue retreated, but continued, gently again, a moment more. She pulled away, and he wasn’t sure if her pout was intentional or a side effect of kissing like this. He tugged at her waist to keep her close still, and it disappeared. A blushing smile took its place. Intentional, then. 

He put his lips by her ear and blushed when he felt her just barely quiver in his arms. “Should we...go back inside?” 

She wordlessly yanked on his arm, and he was a little startled by how quickly they found themselves inside. He wasn’t surprised, though, when, as soon as the door closed behind them, her arms were draped around his neck, a dreamy-eyed smirk on her face. He brought his hands back to her waist and there was stillness as they exchanged mischievous smiles before crashing together again.

He’d thought she’d been fairly frenzied before, but now she was _everywhere_ . There didn’t seem to be a pattern to where her hands or lips traveled, just a blur of light touches and firm kisses. She paused for a moment, to whisper, “ _kiss_ me,” again, hands pulling at the lapels of his jacket, yanking him out of his passive enjoyment of her attention.

He wasn’t prepared for the way she pressed against him when he laid his own kisses on her neck. In particular, when he breathed against her, right under her ear, she practically collapsed into him. He wasn’t sure _who_ exactly was supposed to be holding them up here, because when she responded to his warm breath by saying his name, he could barely stand up straight either. She captured his lips against hers again, and he wondered if her _waiting on him_ might apply to anything else.

Cautiously, he let his hands spread out along her waist, just barely feeling the curve of her chest along her sides beneath his thumbs. Her response was twisting her fingers into his hair a little more as they continued to kiss. Had she _shuddered_ too? Encouraged, but not quite bold enough to continue _up_ that route, he let his hands drift down. When his hands met her belt slung across her hips, he followed it around to her back. As his hands slid down, she sighed against his mouth quietly, making him weak-kneed all over again. _A solution to weak knees? Lying down,_ he thought. _A place to lie down...?_ He put the thought out of his head, and broke away, exclaiming.

“Sketches!” 

“What?” She blinked and shook her head slightly, as if it took a second for her to realize they weren’t kissing anymore.

“Sketches. Pictures. Drawings. Of you.” He stammered, pushing her gently away by the hips. “You wanted to see.” She blushed, as the _unsustainability_ of their entanglement that he’d realized seemed to dawn on her too.

“R-right. Sketches,” she was nodding now, catching her breath. “No more kissing. Sketches.”

“Uh-huh. Yup. Let’s, uh, let’s go to the desk and…”

“And you’ll show me your sketches.” Her eyes cut to the side, glancing to her bed, where his sketchbook still laid. He was sure his face turned scarlet. “At the _desk_.” 

“Right.” He crossed the room, swiping the book from her bed and cringing at the awkward silence that followed. She followed him to the desk, and as he was about to open the sketchbook, she placed her hand on the cover, keeping it shut a moment longer.

“Callum?” He looked at her and saw the teasing, mirthful glimmer that he loved so much in her eyes again. “That was _fun_.”


	5. gift giving, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum gets his birthday gift a little bit early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I started this chapter about three different times before settling on this direction...there's a cute 1000 word draft of an alternate version (much lighter and fluffier) sitting in my google docs that might see the light of day as a one-shot. 
> 
> AND that was after really struggling with what to do with the gift giving theme from Rayla's perspective. So, I took a chance and made some Moonshadow customs up! I'm pretty pleased with it and I'm considering continuing with the idea in maybe a couple of post-TTM fics down the road after I finish this one...I'd be curious to know if what I've made up here works for y'all!
> 
> ____
> 
> I have a playlist that goes with this fic! The tracks correspond to the chapters, mostly just in vibes. [Click here to give it a listen!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Smxg1y4aCyvEMhK3FHGVv?si=I_z9fe77SMqOQLIL3NDDtQ)
> 
> Also, come find me on tumblr!! I'd love to follow more mutual Rayllum fans!! [My handle is the same.](https://blutopaz15.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ____
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I appreciate any comments you feel inclined to leave for me! :) Thanks!

She hated to admit that _Lujanne_ had been the one to show her the solution to her problem, but it was true.

As they cleaned up dinner on their first night back at the Moon Nexus, she had prodded Rayla a little more about her and Callum’s _thing_. Rayla imagined that she had probably intended her tone to be good-natured. 

“So, a _thing_ ?” She’d asked. Rayla cautiously confirmed. “Are you _courting_ yet?” 

Rayla had blushed and said that she hadn’t thought about it.

That was a lie. She _had_ thought about it over the past few weeks, mostly as she had noticed the differences between human expectations for teenagers who were “dating” and elven expectations for Moonshadow courtships.

When Callum had casually called her “the girl he loved” the morning after the battle at the Storm Spire, some of the human adults nearby glanced at each other. Rayla didn’t like the knowing smirks that had appeared on their faces. What did they think they _knew_ about them?

Some of those same humans seemed to be _amused_ by Callum bringing her a snack that afternoon, using words like “young love” and “how sweet,” thinking that she couldn’t hear. That annoyed her too. Of _course_ Callum would do nice things for her. He _loved_ her. Was that really so surprising?

She heard the woman who came to collect their laundry back at the castle refer to her as “the prince’s girlfriend” from down the hall. She’d never heard Callum introduce her as such—instead, he just held her hand when she met new humans—and hearing the term, she understood why. Was “girlfriend” _meant_ to be belittling?

From what she’d seen, it seemed to her that human fifteen-year-olds did not and were not expected to take relationships seriously. (Of course, Callum was different. Callum was _always_ different.) 

Moonshadow courtships, even for a couple as young as they were, on the other hand, were _extremely_ serious.

Almost as serious as Callum flinging himself off a mountain for her. 

So, after Lujanne’s suggestion and some consideration, she decided that the solution to her birthday gift dilemma was the memento that would signify the beginning of their _official_ courtship. 

Callum’s upcoming birthday had been in the back of her mind since they’d returned to Katolis, but none of the other potential gifts she’d considered satisfied her. Sure, she could have found him a book, or a new strap for his sketchbook, or some other trinket, but _anyone_ could get him those things. He deserved something special from her, and there was pretty much _nothing_ more special than this that she could give to him. 

Plus, she knew he’d be tickled by learning more about her and Moonshadow elves in general, and by the little touch of magic involved, and (hopefully) by the implicit commitment that came with it, too.

She just hoped he wouldn’t be mad when he realized that she had stolen his bookmark. 

The purple ribbon that he’d been using to hold his place in his book was essential to the actual, physical gift itself. She _had_ replaced it with a scrap of paper at least. (She’d seen the flash in his eyes the first time he saw her dog-ear a page in a book.)

She pulled out a single blade from behind her back before climbing up and scooting to the center of her bed. Cross-legged, she looped the ribbon over the sharp edge, carefully eyeing the length of the ribbon to be sure it’d be even before pulling it taut against the cool metal. Instantly, the ribbon was in two. 

Her open blade now in front of her on the bed, she tilted her head to let her hair fall to one side. She reached around to isolate a small section—no bigger around than Callum’s pinky finger—that was typically buried and hidden underneath the rest of her hair. Pulling it to the side, she divided it into three, neck still bent at the awkward angle.

 _This_ was the part that made it count. _This_ was the part with magic. So Rayla focused. 

_Devotion._ She smiled at the flutter of admiration that made her short of breath when she let Callum’s sweet gestures and stupid jokes and dorky grins play in her head as she crossed the first strand to the middle of the other two. 

_Faith._ The fluttering swelled into unmistakable warmth, familiar from how she reacted to the selfless and kind things he did for her that proved his love over and over again. She couldn’t be sure if he had—or if she deserved—the same faith in her, but she hoped any that he did have came with the same pleasant feeling of overwhelming _comfort_ that he gave her.

 _Protection._ The way her disposition darkened made this vow feel more solemn than the others. The others were easy. She didn’t have to think twice about her _devotion_ to Callum or her _faith_ in him, but there was no way to avoid the gnawing anxiety of _protecting_ him when she watched herself fail at doing so over and over and over every night. She would, though. Protect him. She shuddered as she wove the third strand into the braid.

She turned the words over and over again in her mind with consistent solemnity now as she continued to braid slowly. Supposedly _,_ that was all it took.

Having reached the end of the plait, she reached for one of the pieces of ribbon to wrap it tightly around the bottom, tying a tidy knot. Leaving a finger’s width of space between her scalp and her fingers, she pinched near the top of the neat and tightly woven braid. She picked up her open weapon and carefully touched the flat edge against her fingers to feel the angle of the blade before cutting through the fine strands locked into the braid. 

Having tucked the blade away again with a flick of her wrist, she felt the spot that she’d cut from as she looked at the little white bundle, wondering how she could be sure that it had worked. She tied the other piece of ribbon around the end still pinched between her fingers, then looked up to see Callum’s bag in her line of vision, abandoned on top of his desk. _The cube_!

She leapt from the bed to dig around in the bag for the cube. It glowed in her hand, and it occurred to her that possibly _any_ piece of her hair would light it up, enchanted or not. At least she’d know if the little braid _wasn’t_ magical. She placed the moon rune face up on the desk and laid the braid across it before stepping away, pleased to see it was still glowing. 

“Hey, Rayla.” She froze. “I thought you were going to get ready for bed?” She snatched the braid into her closed fist and turned to him, painfully aware of the cringe that remained frozen across her face. Callum rubbed the towel against his wet hair before crossing the room to lay it across the bed frame.

“Uh...oops. I, uh...forgot?” She shrugged, one arm tucked behind her. He raised an eyebrow as he turned to her.

“What do you have behind your back?” 

“Behind my back?” She lowered her clenched fist to the desk behind her and carefully spread her hand to cover the detached braid where it now laid on the flat surface. She leaned back against the desk as nonchalantly as she could. “There’s nothing behind my back.”

“Mmm...I don’t believe you.” He peered behind her to the desk. “Why did you get the cube out?” He wandered closer to her, playful suspicion turning his mouth up at one corner. That didn’t help the nervous vibrato in her voice.

“Just...uh...checking something,” she responded, as he placed his hands on her shoulders. They started to slowly, slowly inch their way down her arms.

“Oh, Rayla, hold my hands, won’t you?” He said with exaggerated sweetness. He even pouted a little. She pursed her lips in frustration. _How was it_ fair _for him to be that_ cute _?_ His fingers had made it to her elbows, and she yielded as he started to tug on the arm she leaned against.

“Okay, okay, fine!” She picked up the braid and held it out to him. He exclaimed in triumph and she rolled her eyes. “It’s your birthday present,” she explained. He took it from her and peered at it more closely.

“Is this a lock of your hair? I didn’t think girls actually _did_ that,” he chuckled a little and his cheeks went a little pink. She thought the way he held it carefully in his palm was sweet and was pleased that, apparently, her gift at least seemed to carry similar connotations for humans, if nothing else. 

“Well, I don’t know what it means if human girls do this,” she shrugged, “but this is a Moonshadow elf thing.”

“Oh.” He glanced over her shoulder at the desk again. “Oh! Wait! Is this _magic_?” He grinned and looked back to her. “Is that why you were using the cube?”

“Yes.” She held her hand out again and he gave it back, seemingly reading her mind. She didn’t want him to have it without understanding what it meant.

“Tell me about it,” he said, cocking his head to the side, ready to listen. She took a deep breath. She wasn’t exactly _nervous_ . It’s not like she thought he’d _reject_ her or anything of the sort, but there _was_ a lot to explain and she wanted to do it carefully. She needed him to understand that this was _special_ and she’d expected to have more time to mull over exactly how to make that happen.

“Here goes...Callum, do humans have courting?”

“Uh...it’s kind of just a fancy way of saying that you’re with someone, right? Or that you’re, like, wooing someone?” he shrugged as he responded, and then his eyes lit up. “Oooh, Rayla, are you _wooing_ me?” He angled towards her and waggled his eyes up and down dramatically. She rolled her eyes again. 

“Yes. Consider yourself wooed.” He snickered and reached for her free hand. “Can I continue?” He nodded. “When Moonshadow elves decide they want to be with someone—decide that they _love_ someone—they begin courting. To start, it’s tradition that one of them does this,” She opened her hand to show him the braid again. “and they make some promises to each other. Then, they’re bound to each other until they decide not to be. Do humans have anything like that?”

He shook his head before tacking on an explanation. “I mean, people in relationships _do_ make promises to each other, I guess, but humans—in Katolis, at least—don’t have specific traditions or anything, really. Not until we’re ready to get married, that is.”

She nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“Rayla—

“No, hush. Listen,” she let go of his hand to put a finger on his lips. “I know this isn’t normal for humans, so I’m not expecting you to make any promises. I don’t even know if the magic will actually _work_ even if you do because you’re human _and_ not Moonshadow. But I want to make those promises to you. If you’ll let me?” She’d watched his eyes the whole time, seeing them widen, then blink, then shine a little as she explained. It had been easier than she thought it would be, and not nearly as awkward.

“I’ll let you...and I _absolutely_ want to make promises to you, too.” His eyes were light now, reflecting the warm light in the room. She let a smile creep across her lips, and, as if he had been waiting for her to crack first, he grinned too.

She brought a fond hand to his collar. “Don’t you want to know what we’re going to promise first?” 

“Oh.” She suppressed the smirk when his voice cracked. “It’s specific stuff?”

“Yes, ‘it’s specific stuff’.” She poked him in the chest and mocked his tone then turned to stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder, displaying the braid in her palm. “Each strand represents a promise. We’d be swearing to each other these three things: devotion, faith, and protection.”

Callum bumped against her side, and her heart fluttered again at the sudden gentle shyness in his smile. “How do we start?”

“We have to go outside,” she said and started pulling him towards the door.

“Uh...okay? This isn’t going to be like during the storm the other day, is it?” She looked back over her shoulder at him, smirking at the flirtatious little glint in his eye.

“I mean...not as a part of the ritual.” She liked the way his face got a little red when she winked. “Moon, Callum. Duh,” she scoffed.

“Oh. Yeah. Duh.” He stopped following for a moment to place a hand at the back of his neck. She contained a giggle when he stumbled a little as she tugged on his hand again. Just out of the door, they sat on the steps that led out to the open clearing. 

She sighed contentedly, glancing at the half moon above, then smiled when he reached out to hold her hand, knowing that they’d have to be doing that anyway if he was really doing this with her. 

She clasped her other hand around his as well before pausing to clarify one last time. “Callum, you get that this is serious, right? Super, super serious?”

“I’m serious about you.” Her face flushed and her skin tingled a little at his earnestness.

“Well, if you’re doing this with me, you’ll have to repeat after me.” She released his hand for a moment to lay the little enchanted braid between their palms. Squeezing his hand again, she asked, “Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

_I pledge my undying devotion to you and only you._

_I promise to love you in all things._

Rayla felt the flutter return to her chest, especially watching his smiling lips as he repeated after her, line by line.

_I pledge my unwavering faith in you and your love_

_I promise to trust you in all things._

Warmth spread again as his smile faded, replaced by the most tender and sincere expression she’d ever seen him wear.

_I pledge my unending protection of you and your heart._

_I promise to shelter you in all things._

His eyes grew dark and serious, and she clutched at his hand a little more tightly as she said her part. He clutched back. 

She pulled him closer to touch her forehead to his as he finished the last repetition.

“Can I kiss you now?” He asked, breath tickling her cheek. 

“You have to,” she said. If the magical part of this _was_ going to work, that was the final act that sealed the connection they’d just forged. They moved towards each other’s lips slowly, meeting in a sober and full-hearted kiss. When their lips met, Rayla felt the spot against her scalp where she’d shorn the braid from growing warm. His lips moved against hers, soft and slow, angling to deepen their kiss while his other hand pressed against their joined palms.

When he pulled away, he gently whispered, “Do you feel that?”

“Hmm?” A little dazed and lovesick, she wasn’t sure if he was referring to the general feeling of bliss that was clouding her head or something more specific.

“The braid...it’s _warm_ now.” He released her hand, taking the braid with him.

“Oh, I can’t feel that.” He frowned for a moment, so she hastily continued on to explain. “It’s here, where I cut from, for me.” Her fingers tangled in her hair to feel at the warm patch underneath. 

“Will it stay like this?” He asked, reassured, now looking at the braid in wonder. She took his hand again and leaned against him, tucking her head onto his shoulder. 

“Yes,” she said. “Unless one of us changes our mind.” 

She knew she wouldn’t.


	6. gift giving, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla isn't sleeping or eating very well. Callum can fix one of those two things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter planned as "Callum keeps Rayla supplied with snacks" since I started planning this fic, and I imagined it as being a little more happy-go-lucky, but the ANGST. Poor Callum is worried about his girl. :'(
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ____
> 
> I have a playlist that goes with this fic! The tracks correspond to the chapters, mostly just in vibes. [Click here to give it a listen!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Smxg1y4aCyvEMhK3FHGVv?si=I_z9fe77SMqOQLIL3NDDtQ) (honestly, song vibe for this chapter changed a lot as I was writing, but oh well.)

Rayla just looked _so tired_ lately.

Callum saw it in the way her shoulders sagged and in how her face fell when she thought no one was looking. If he caught her eye, she immediately brightened, but it wasn’t long before she returned to staring blankly ahead again whenever she was still. The glazed-over look in her eye, which she seemed to have more and _more_ often, made him worry. 

He pressed a kiss to her temple whenever he noticed it. She usually didn’t say anything when he did; she just smiled weakly. Once, she’d _apologized_ , though. His heart had ached painfully—what did she have to be _sorry_ for?—but he’d just smiled at her gently and told her not to be silly. 

Then, one particularly glassy-eyed afternoon, she’d yawned when they sat down to take a break, convincing him that it was time to get to the bottom of it. He hadn’t pestered her about the nightmares, but he hadn’t forgotten the tiny tidbits about them that she’d dropped. He started off gently, just asking why she still wasn’t sleeping well, but even that earned him a sharp, curt reaction, the likes of which he hadn’t had from Rayla since the first time he’d offered her Big Feelings Time. At least she’d given him some Big Feelings to work with during their last few screaming matches.

“I’m just not, okay?” She responded with a glare. He relented. 

“Hey...it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me right now.” Her jaw, stubbornly set in a scowl, softened under his touch. “But you _do_ have to take a nap. Come here.” He looped his arms around her middle and pulled her back to lean against his chest. He could tell by how weakly she tried to wiggle away that her protest was half-hearted. 

“Shhh...I’m trying to sleep,” he said, closing his eyes to encourage her to do the same. He let his head tilt backward to rest against the tree. She sighed in irritation, but after a moment, he felt her surrender and relax back against him. He smiled when she pulled his arms more snugly around her body. Callum waited to truly relax until he felt her breathing become slow and steady.

A temporary fix...until they could open the portal, at least. But at least he’d helped a _little,_ he thought. After all, shouldn’t the _protection_ he’d vowed last night include taking care of her? 

Even more concerning than her exhaustion, though, Callum thought, was how little she’d been eating.

He’d noticed her picking at her food selectively back at the castle, so he’d started silently leaving her favorite things on his plate, claiming to be full in order to have an excuse to slide it over to her. Normally she’d eat a _little_ more that way. He’d thought at the time that maybe she just didn’t like Katolian food very much. Plus, it wasn’t like they were walking miles and miles a day anymore, so perhaps, he thought, this was just her normal appetite.

She’d started eating even _less_ since they’d come back to the Moon Nexus, though. No more than a few obligatory bites at each meal, even if he slid her his plate, convincing him that this was not _just_ distaste for the food. He’d fussed at her a little over it over breakfast the morning that they roped Allen into their plan, and ever since, he’d noticed how she watched to be sure he _saw_ her eat too.

He _really_ didn’t like that. 

He liked even less when, shortly after their early-afternoon nap, she’d excused herself from their work, saying she felt dizzy. She’d rushed away, charging foolishly past him, as if he wouldn’t follow close behind.

He snagged his bag before joining her in the shade of their napping tree, with a hunch about what the solution to her lightheadedness might be. Her knees were drawn to her chest and her eyes tightly closed. His heart ached again seeing her in such discomfort.

He knelt in front of her. “Rayla...are you okay?” She squinted at him briefly before closing her eyes again.

“Oh, yeah. I’m great. Just peachy.” She rested her head on her knees, as if the sarcasm had drained the last of her energy.

“What can I do?” He reached to her and, unexpectedly, she shrugged his hand off of her shoulder. He blinked, a little taken aback, but her voice was _so_ fragile when she spoke next that he didn’t even consider being offended.

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m going to pass out.” Her shoulders somehow tensed even more and his fingers flinched unbidden toward her again before he stopped himself to open his pack instead.

“Eat something for me,” he pleaded, beginning to dig in his bag for the little satchel of moonberries he had stashed inside.

“Fine,” she said, holding out her hand, head still down, ready to receive the handful of berries he passed to her. She raised her head, and he watched her pop one in her mouth. As she swallowed, she turned to him with the same attitude of defiance from earlier when he’d been trying to coerce her into napping. “Are you gonna watch me the whole time? I’ll eat them, okay?” She had another, and then a few more, her glances to him becoming less and less cutting as she ate.

When the berries were almost gone, he dared to put his hand on her back. She let him this time, and he rubbed tiny circles. He took a breath. He desperately wanted to ask her a variation on the same question again— _why_ wasn’t she eating? But, fearing another prickly retort, when he spoke, he teased instead. “Feeling less hangry?” He snickered when she punched him in the arm.

Just barely sporting a smile, she tossed the last couple of berries in her mouth, and he thought maybe he could make _this_ fix a little less temporary.

So, the next morning, he loaded his pack to the brim with as many snacks as he could find.

He silently opened another handkerchief full of berries and placed it between them while they stood around the drafting table the next morning. He ignored her gaze, which shifted between the little bundle of berries and his face and then back to the pile as he nonchalantly plucked one from the pile to eat. She followed suit.

A few hours later, after they’d huffed and puffed up and down some particularly steep terrain, hauling a heavy tree limb to be cut down to size, he’d dug in his pack again for a couple of apples. “Hey, Rayla.” She looked up, looking clear-headed despite the sweat on her brow. “Catch!” She smiled as her hand closed around her apple. It was lunch time, but an extra snack on the way wouldn’t hurt. Her smile was appreciative.

After transporting a few more loads of tree limbs after lunch, they collapsed in a sweaty pile and he shared the canteen of water that he’d stowed away. He beamed when she then _asked_ to take a nap. He backed up against their tree, prepared to take her in his arms again, but instead she laid her head in his lap, looking up at him. Her eyes had that glazed over look again, but he didn’t mind so much now that she was smiling at him and willingly dozing off. He brought a hand to her head, combing his fingers along her scalp and through her hair over and over. “That’s nice, Callum,” she said, finally closing her eyes. When her head rolled to the side, he gently pushed her hair to one side to feel the spot she’d cut her braid from the other night and watched her sleep.

Later, after dinner, when everyone else had turned their attention to little baby Phoe-Phoe, he needled her into sharing one of Ez’s experimental forest-fruit jelly tarts with him, shamelessly flirting so she wouldn’t scoff at his attempt to feed her. A hand on her knee, he tried a little of the tart first and then placed the pastry an inch from her lips. She blushed but looked him dead in the eye when she took a bite. (Had licking her lips afterward _really_ been necessary?) They alternated bites, and she drifted closer and closer after each one. She brushed a crumb from his scarf when the tart was gone and pressed her lips to his. Her eyes sparkled when she pulled away.

He stuck a second tart in his pack for later. 

And, the next morning, she _asked_ him to pack some more moonberries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! :)
> 
> I'm kind of latched on to the fact that Rayla has been relatively vague about her nightmares to Callum, which I certainly think adds up to not wanting to burden him with how terrified she is of losing him specifically and the gory details of her dreams...that + grumpiness = her refusal to elaborate in this chapter. I'll be expanding on this a little more down the road. Just wanted to mention here in case it seemed out of place since, overall, she's pretty open in TTM...aside from those specific details.
> 
> Also, come find me on tumblr!! I'd love to follow more mutual Rayllum fans!! [My handle is the same.](https://blutopaz15.tumblr.com/)


	7. acts of service, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla dotes on Callum after he gets a little scraped up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! 
> 
> The length of this chapter got away from me, as you can see, so it took forever...especially with the holiday this week!! I hope I've balanced out the angst/panic with the sweet fluffiness in the second half. 
> 
> TW for a bit of a panic attack on Rayla's part in the first half.
> 
> As always, I'd love any comments you are inclined to leave! Thanks for reading!!
> 
> UPDATE 11/29: I made a few minor changes after the original revision...a couple of dialogue tweaks and a bit more insight into poor Rayla's brain.

By the time she returned from her sparring session with Soren and realized what was going on, Callum was already halfway up the tree. She sighed and felt a vein above her eyebrow throb, knowing _exactly_ what expression would be on his face.

“Callum, what are you _doing_ up there?” She grumbled. He paused, his hands on a limb above his head. He’d shed his jacket, and she blinked away the momentary impulse to fixate on that fact. 

“I needed to get to the top of the scaffold,” he said with a shrug, gesturing to the platform that sat just under the longest limb of the tree, as if the problem and _this_ solution were the most obvious things in the world. She’d been right about the dumb idea face.

“I could’ve—”

“I've got this, Rayla. _Trust_ me.” She groaned in frustration. _Of course_ he would say that. 

The only regret she had about their little moonlit ritual the other night was that now every other word out of his mouth was a (usually cheesy) reference to one of the vows they’d made to each other. She frowned, considering throwing _protection_ right back in his face. 

Protection from, what, though? A tree? His own dumb ideas? She tried to shake off the concern. She couldn’t do _everything_ for him...right? Rayla mumbled some advice instead.

“I wouldn’t go that way,” she offered. He adjusted, looping his arms around the other limb within reach.

She continued watching as he hauled himself up the tree, uneasily spotting him from the ground. Every now and then, she called out again to tell him where to climb next. Truly, the climbing itself wasn’t _that_ painful to watch, even though a little illogical voice in the back of her head made her breath catch every time his feet left the surface of the tree to climb up to the next limb. Usually this pit in her stomach, first formed watching him fall after her at the Spire, only hardened in her gut when she jolted awake in the wee hours of the morning. Her breath and the heaviness rattled her.

 _He’s fine_ , she repeated to herself over and over. She shifted a few steps around the trunk of the tree with each of his moves, placing herself directly under him at all times. Mouth set in an anxious grimace, she turned over in her mind what it meant that her intent to trust him—even when he was doing something both _stupid_ and _unnecessary_ —could be so incompatible with her impulse to protect him. The unpleasant dissonance faded a little when he lowered his body to the longest limb and started—a _bit_ less nerve-wrackingly, she thought—slowly inching his way out towards the end of the limb, which hung overtop of the narrow platform.

The way he moved along on his belly was, though, absolutely agonizingly slow. At least she wasn’t _worried,_ she thought, if she was instead impatiently adding up how many times she could’ve gotten herself to the top of the scaffold already as he crawled along. When he made to lower himself from the end of the thick branch, though, her concern began anew.

He peered down at the platform directly below, then, gingerly, he lowered a searching foot down, once, then twice, pausing when his boot made contact with the wood— _thunk_ . She _almost_ called out to check that he was still feeling okay about his current position _dangling from a tree limb. (So_ stupid. She could’ve been up and down in five seconds, no dangling required, she thought. _)_ But, before she had a chance, he deposited himself at the top of the scaffold, the tallest they’d built yet. He looked triumphant for a moment...before the swaying started and her stomach dropped.

Cursing at herself under her breath would have to do for now as penance for letting her stupid, _stupid_ human get himself into this situation. Her eyes darted to the tree for a split second—just how fast had she thought she could get up there again?—before glancing back at the scaffold, realizing that its teetering would outpace her.

“Callum, you have to jump!” She called, seeing his arms already starting to flail in search of balance. Better than being _tossed_ from a wavering platform fifteen feet in the air, she thought. She winced, though, as he picked the absolutely _worst_ moment to jump. Rayla scrambled as best she could in the direction he’d leapt in to tackle him midair, hoping to absorb some of the impact at least. His momentum pulled them off of her intended path, rotating their bodies so that their sides hit the ground first. They skidded across the ground, ending up in a grass-stained, dirt-caked pile of limbs that might have been something to blush about if not for the string of curses he immediately let fly.

“OW!” His hand clutched at the arm that had first made contact with the ground as he continued on to swear through gritted teeth. He groaned, eyes sealed shut.

“Callum!” She bolted upright, and seeing no limbs bent at odd angles, her attention went immediately to his hand grasping at the flesh just below his shoulder. She pried his fingers off of where they were all but cemented to his upper arm. “Let me see,” she said and his fingers slackened. She blinked in relief at the shallow scrapes. The worst damage was how the wounds marred the first of the runes still painted on his arm. They’d gotten a little faded anyway, she thought. She breathed a sigh of relief before looking to examine the rest of her big, dumb human.

She found Callum’s face pointed up and away from his slightly bloodied arm, eyes closed. “I can’t look, Rayla! How bad is it?!” He exclaimed. She couldn’t help but smile at his dramatics, sincere as they were.

“Oh, your arm’s definitely going to fall off,” she teased, pressing her fingers against a couple of the deeper scrapes to stifle the little beads of blood still developing.

“Rayla!” 

“Callum, you’re _fine_ ,” she assured him. “It’s just bleeding a little.” He blinked his eyes open, darkened deep green in alarm, and slowly turned to look. The sarcastic tilt to her smile fell away when she saw just how sincere his panic was. She squeezed at his other shoulder reassuringly, but he tensed instead of relaxing as she’d hope, the color draining from his face. 

“Rayla, I don’t...don’t do so well with bl-bleeding,” He glanced down at the pressure she was putting on the larger scrapes for a moment before he blinked away, his eyes becoming unfocused. She peeled her fingers away, her smile still soft and comforting, to show him how minor the damage was. His eyes fluttered back to the scrapes and she bent to squint at them too.

“It’s barely bleeding any—what—” Callum’s head connected with her collarbone, and she smiled to herself that he’d just collapse into her like that when he was hurt before realizing by the slackening of his shoulders _just how collapsed he was._

She shook his shoulders lightly at first, in disbelief that he’d actually _fainted_. She sighed in mild annoyance, propped him up with one hand, and squished his cheeks between her fingers in time with the words as she mimicked him dramatically. “‘Trust me, Rayla! It’s a great idea to climb up a rickety scaffold! Nothing could go wrong there!’” 

She sighed and rearranged him so his back leaned against her, her arms looping around his waist as she grew more concerned. “Callum? Come on,” she said in his ear, kissing its rounded tip. She’d thought she’d rouse him easily, but fear started to set in as he remained slumped against her. 

His closed eyes, and powerlessness to respond to her, and the irrational wave of _guilt_ that washed over her for not somehow _preventing_ this—it all started to twist unbearably at her heart, tearing open old scars as well as the wounds that just barely closed during daylight hours. She hugged him tighter and tighter to her, repeating his name again as each intrusive, hysterical thought pushed in. 

A feverish Callum flashed across her mind, wheezing and gasping against her, with dark and sunken eyes. 

She shook, then, reminded of the eerily calm expression he wore beneath the ice in her dreams by his current, unresponsive, slack-jawed look. The same frozen dread that kept her up at night ran a shudder down her spine now. 

Even if she could hold him and feel him and smell him and touch him right now, the feeling that she couldn’t _really_ reach him now any more than she could in her dreams quickened her heartbeat, and memories of lightning strikes, and wheezing, and deafening wind rushing past them both, and icy prisons escalated her concern into outright panic. 

She became aware of her tears only when Callum’s hair became wet with them.

The first sign that he’d woken up was his hand pressing deliberately against her arm around his middle. She exhaled. “ _Callum_.” He sat up, and she scrambled around to look at him, grasping him by the shoulders again.

“Rayla?” He blinked at her in confusion, and she wondered how ridiculously red her tear-streaked face must be. The tender sting of tearful, swollen eyes made her squint a little to look back at him. “Why—” He reached for her face and she caught his hand to gently pull it down, holding it instead of letting him brush the tears away. _He_ was the one who was hurt—as superficial as his little scrapes were—not _her_.

“You fainted. I freaked out.” She blushed, regretting working herself up because she knew it meant that he would worry. “Sorry.” She brought her hand down to graze over the scrapes on his arm. “Don’t do it again,” she said when he winced and looked down. “Please.” 

He immediately averted his eyes from the blood to instead scan her face. His hand drifted to her again, and she didn’t like the worried little frown that appeared as when his thumb touched her cheek. She let him wipe one tear away before shaking her head and pulling him to his feet, threading her arm around his back in case he felt unsteady. 

“C’mere.” Determined to be the one doting on _him_ , she began walking him back in the direction of their room. “I’ll clean you up.”

* * *

Rayla had to admit she was enjoying doting on her big, dumb human, even if his carrying on _was_ a little ridiculous. She supposed, though, that she had little room to talk as _she_ had been the first to get carried away with concern when he fainted. _His_ carrying on was much cuter anyway—pouting lips and puppy-dog eyes and the sweet little grins when he _realized_ she was trying to dote on him. Dote and flirt. 

Thus, she hummed in displeasure in an effort to get him to ask her what was wrong so she could turn the conversation down the particular road of flattery she wanted to go down. 

Kneeling at his side where he sat in his chair, she frowned as she wiped the damp cloth along the wounds. The cloth came away red and now she could see just how badly the rune on his arm was distorted by the injury. She _liked_ the runes, which were, to her displeasure, perpetually hidden under his sleeves since their return to Katolis. Apparently how she’d traced them with her fingertips basically every time they’d been alone after the battle before he replaced his jacket back at the castle didn’t clue him in that she’d like to be able to _see_ them sometimes. It’s not like she was going to _undress him_ to make that happen, though. She hummed again.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking determinedly out the window while she dabbed at the scrapes.

“Turns out your arm _is_ going to fall off,” she said with a melodramatic sigh. 

“Ha. Ha.” He turned just enough so she could look up and see him roll his eyes. She smiled in return, then let a finger trace along the runes, starting with the damaged marking.

“Don’t look.” She ordered. “No more fainting.” While she’d held him up on their walk back to their room, he’d consoled her with stories of  _ much _ more embarrassing moments where he’d bled and passed out. A deeper scratch along his knee that made him pass out in a puddle when he poked at it, a splinter that’d made him woozy...even a papercut he’d looked at too long on an empty stomach. She’d smiled and felt a little comforted...at least she couldn’t find a way to blame herself for him passing out anymore. Still, she’d prefer if he didn’t do it again.

“You’re going to have to repaint these soon. Especially after this is better,” she commented, her voice falling into a low, fond tone as she changed the subject back to her fascination.

“Guess so,” he said, seemingly unphased judging by the way he shrugged and turned back in the direction of the window. She continued commentary on the state of his arm in hopes of finding another way to loop back to the runes.

“It _is_ bruising up pretty good though,” she said, setting aside the washcloth. She leaned forward and kissed the worst scrape, wishing he was looking at her so he could see the embarrassingly adoring way she gazed at him. She unwound a bandage from the roll in the little medic kit Callum had in his pack and wrapped it around his arm as they continued.

“Doesn’t surprise me. People _do_ always say that hitting your funny bone is the worst.” 

“Your what, now?” She asked, eyebrow raised, sensing a stupid joke en route. She giggled anyway.

“Funny bone.” He tapped on his uninjured arm. “You know, your humerus? Like the bone?” He pointed at his. She rolled her eyes, wondering if _Callum_ came up with that one or if all human humor was so _dumb_. Doting wasn’t enough to stop her teasing him over it.

“Oh, in that case, it’s _definitely_ broken,” she said, tearing off the end of the bandage. “In fact, I think it’s been broken for months. Years, maybe!” Holding the bandage tight around his arm still, she leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek, right in the spot that his smile lifted.

“Huh. Thought I would’ve noticed that.” He shrugged again. She tied the knot in the bandage, and bent to lay a kiss on top of the gauze now. Unable to put away the fondness for them, and determined to make him understand her attachment to them, her lips trailed down to the second rune on his arm, and she began to trace it with small kisses. “Uh...Rayla? What are you doing?” There was a flutter of laughter in his words.

“I like these.” She was glad that he was looking at her now, and figured he would continue to now that he was all patched up. She blinked at him, then bent to finish the last couple of kisses in the pattern, keeping meaningful eye contact. Her face reddened as she continued to explain. “I...wish I could see them more.” She could see by his sweet little grin that he was getting it now.

“Oh?” He smirked.

“Yeah.” She pulled his forearm to her lips and kissed along the third rune, watching him smile at her as she did. She kissed his wrist to finish and her heart twisted—in a good way, this time—as his green eyes softened even further than usual in affection. She blinked away, continuing to hold his hand in hers. “Okay, what now? We can do whatever you want. Your wish is my command.”

He brought a finger to his chin as if seriously considering, but she could tell he already knew what he wanted. “Mmmm...cuddle?”

“What a terrible, _terrible_ thing to have to do,” she said, pulling him up by both hands towards his bed. 

“I know. How could I be so cruel?” He plopped down and lifted his unbandaged arm for her to slide under. Instead, she took that lifted hand and pulled it to her lap as she came to sit cross-legged next to him on the bed, facing him. She started kissing along the rune on his forearm first this time. He chuckled again as she began. “Do you know _why_ you like them so much?” She paused to consider.

“I think they’re...comforting?” She resumed her kisses, considering the fact that _maybe_ that wasn’t the whole truth. Maybe comfort was the _source_ of their appeal, but that certainly wasn’t the limit of her affection for them. 

“Because of the Spire?” He asked. She frowned at the bittersweet memory.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said simply, not letting her focus stray back to the feeling of falling. She let her tone grow low and fond again, betraying her minor obsession, and didn’t even mind that the next words made her blush. “And now...I’m a little, uh...preoccupied with them.” Having finished the first rune, she scooted closer to continue on with kissing the second. 

“That makes sense,” he said with amusement. His smile fell a little as he continued. “They’re the only way I’ve ever really been able to protect you.”

“That’s not true.” She interrupted a line of kisses. “You protect me all the time. Believe it or not, snacks  _ are _ protection,” she said with a smile, choosing to focus on his protection that she  _ liked _ —not the  _ dangerous  _ kind that pulled at the pit in her stomach—before continuing her kisses. She couldn’t  _ help _ but be happy about  _ un _ risky protection...it was the thoughtless, idiotic bravery that bothered her.

“I’d do it more if you let me,” he looked serious now, alluding, she was sure, to her plans to go into the portal alone.

“If I have to _trust_ you about something as _dumb_ as climbing to the top of rickety scaffolds for no good reason, then you have to trust me about this too,” she said, her worry starting to show in the frustration that wanted to infect her tone. She tempered it, though, by finishing her work kissing the second rune on his arm between phrases.

“How am I supposed to protect you then?” He sounded pained.

“How am _I_ supposed to protect _you_?” Her voice grew sharp. She looked up to meet his eyes, shiny, darkened, and intense.

She watched the conundrum she’d been forced to consider spread across his face. “Oh.” 

“Yeah.” They fell silent, and her eyes fell to the hand she held. She pressed her thumb into the back of his hand over and over anxiously, turning over their commitment to _somehow_ both trust and protect each other in her mind again. He shifted a little after a few moments.

“Are you going to finish?” He offered her his upper arm, sitting up to bring it closer to her lips. He smiled, softly, understandingly. Wordlessly, she bent to begin, but found that all she really wanted to do was nuzzle against the soft skin there to be sure he was near and real and safe. 

“I love you,” she muttered, forehead leaned against his shoulder. At least _devotion_ was easy.

The icy dread started to leak back into her thoughts and her breath grew shaky until his opposite hand steadied her, coming up to press against her hair lightly. He kissed the top of her head. She smiled at the flood of warmth, both from his kiss and from a sudden awareness of the warm patch that her braided lock had been cut from.

“I love you too. We’ll figure it out.” He pressed his cheek against her hair for a moment before perking up again and shrugging her forehead gently away. “Seriously, though. I liked the kisses. Finish up!” He said, offering his upper arm again. 

His sweet little grin was back, along with the puppy-dog eyes. She smiled back softly, love of her sweet human prince swelling in her heart.

“Anything for you, Callum.” She pressed her lips back against him over and over, satisfied that—for the moment, at least—she could give him what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 
> 
> 11/29 ~noon: I am planning to revise this chapter a bit in the next day or two...I was ready to be done with it when I posted but I want to go back and tweak/explain a few things that didn't come out the way I'd hoped...then fluff incoming in a couple of days!
> 
> 11/29 ~10pm: This chapter is updated with a few tweaks. Only a few sentences throughout have changed but I think the revisions help clear up some of the things I was dissatisfied with. Thanks!


	8. quality time, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they run out of things to do in preparation for the full moon, Rayla puts Callum through a day of training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA the Rayllum training montage that we all need, in fic form.
> 
> Honestly, I probably could've included like five other ideas I had here to flesh out a whole day of Rayla's little bootcamp here, but here are a few little snippets!!
> 
> I know there is fandom talk about Callum becoming quite agile as a result of his arcanum...but in my mind I think that'd still require some training, for sure. And who better to put him through the wringer than our favorite 'quite daring' Moonshadow elf?
> 
> Nice and light this time since the last couple of chapters won't be...
> 
> I hope you enjoy! As always, I'd love any comments that you feel inclined to leave for me! :)

Callum gently, _gently_ untangled his fingers from Rayla’s hair. 

He froze a moment when she stirred, but it had only been to nuzzle against his pant leg, her arms wrapping more tightly around his knee for a moment before she settled again. She’d left a little spot of drool just above his knee after yesterday afternoon’s nap, and he hoped that she was sleeping soundly enough to do it again today. She’d been embarrassed, but he’d thought it was cute. Plus, he knew she was grateful for the rest and that gave him some peace of mind, too. Even with the risk of disturbing her, though, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching back down to tuck the hair that had fallen across her face back behind her ear. 

Careful to move just his arm so as not to disturb her any further, he rummaged blindly in his pack, feeling for the folded up checklist he’d assembled soon after the Moonhenge plans were drafted. Silently, he unfolded the paper, and rested it as softly as possible against her back, which rose and fell in steady rhythm. 

They were running out of things to do. 

A few days into their project, they’d started borrowing from tasks on the next day’s list, and then the _next_ next day’s until...did they really only have one more support to build? It seemed so, as Callum ticked off the ‘finish crane’ box—in his head at least. His charcoal was too far out of reach to get without waking Rayla. He counted days on his fingers to be sure it was true. They’d really have _two_ whole days free before what he’d labelled as ‘Assembly Day’ on his schedule. The day before the full moon. 

He moved the paper off of her back as she stirred again, turning over to look up at him now. Her smile was lazy and sweet as she blinked her eyes open. The warm satisfaction glimmering there melted him. She looked _so_ much happier after their little snooze each afternoon.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said fondly, putting the schedule to the side. She arched her back to stretch before pulling herself up with a looped arm around his neck. He pressed a supportive hand between her shoulder blades.

“Hi,” she sighed sleepily just before bringing her lips to his, her kiss just as lazy as her little smile. He marveled at how _natural_ it felt. He didn’t even blush...until she pulled away and gave him that starry-eyed look. So close...he could still feel her breath against his lips. She looked to the side and snagged the discarded schedule from the grass before plopping her head back down in his lap. “Is this right? Are we almost done?” She held it up, scanning over the list.

“Yup. Just one more,” he said. She handed the paper back to him to put away. “Two days to spare. Maybe we can have some actual vacation time.” He let his hand flutter down to rest lightly against her stomach after he’d tucked the note back into the top of his bag.

“Mmm...well, I should probably do some training, too.” She shrugged, smile remaining. “You’re making me lazy,” she said, twiddling with the edge of his jacket.

“Okay. That’s what we’ll do tomorrow then,” he responded brightly, watching her eyebrows raise in surprise. He knew she hadn’t meant that he would too, but it couldn’t hurt right? Embarrassment was probably the biggest risk...and maybe she’d get a laugh out of that. Worth it.

“We?” He nodded slightly. _Why not?_ Her skepticism was short-lived. He could practically _see_ the training regimen springing fully formed into her head.

* * *

Callum had some regrets.

The first was proclaiming that their first lap around the lake had been easy.

The second was scoffing at Rayla’s next instructions.

“You weigh, like, ten pounds, Rayla. No problem!”

He realized that this wasn’t going to go well for him when he nearly fell into the lake as she bounced up onto his back. The distraction of regaining his balance was _definitely_ needed as she giggled in his ear and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Awfully confident, aren’t we?” He let out a broken chuckle when she kissed his cheek. “Go!”

The first hundred yards or so weren’t _so_ bad, even if she _did_ seem to be intentionally making it as difficult as possible. At least the heat of the sun was fading as night fell.

“Can’t you hold on tighter?” he muttered between breaths. The way she shifted around, hanging onto him so loosely kept pulling him off center, and he had to wonder if that was her _goal_ or if this might be shy hesitation regarding their proximity.

“Nope. Thought carrying me was no problem?” He might’ve been annoyed with her teasing if not for her breath tickling his ear. “In fact, pick up the pace, slow-poke!” She poked him in the side for emphasis and he slammed his legs into the dirt path slightly quicker.

“The _pace_ isn’t the problem,” he puffed.

“Fine, then.” She pressed against his back fully now, arms tightening around his shoulders. “But seriously, faster! Sprint!”

He obeyed each order—

”Sprint!” 

“Okay, you can jog now.” 

“Sprint! Sprint! Around the corner!”

“Fine, walk. But _just_ to that tree.”

“Go!”

“Faster, Callum!”

—as they lapped the lake again, once, then twice. 

She slid down off his back once she’d allowed him to stop, and he collapsed into the grass nearby. It wasn’t hard to catch his breath, but he could already tell the fatigue in limbs would be unpleasant tomorrow. 

_Why_ had he volunteered for this again? Oh, right. The grin currently plastered across her face. He groaned. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to enjoy her being all wrapped around him like that. Was _that_ what the mischief on her face was all about?

“Arms hurt. _Legs_ hurt. Can’t walk,” he whined. She plopped down to sit cross-legged next to him and pulled his bare arm into her lap. He made sure the pout on his face was more dramatic than necessary. “Weren’t _you_ the one who wanted to train?”

She kissed his knuckles. “I’ll run with you in the morning.”

“In the morning!?”

* * *

She was trying to kill him.

That could be the only explanation...right? 

He focused grumpily on the back of her head, her bright, white hair bouncing cheerily ahead of him as he brushed his sweat-sopped hair out of his eyes every three seconds.

 _How_ could she stay _so fast_ for _so long_?

And now, she was _taunting_ him. She turned, running backwards ahead of him, just out of reach.

For some reason he’d (foolishly) thought that “you’ll have to catch me first!” in response to his leaning in for a kiss this morning meant she’d _let him_ catch her. Apparently not.

“Rayla?” he called. He wiped his brow again, feeling a few beads of sweat about to drip into his eyes.

“Yes?” She responded with an amused smile, running backwards with ease—still faster than him—all the while.

“How about... _you..._ catch _me..._ and then... _you_ ...kiss _me_?” He suggested, panting between every couple of words.

“Tired already?” This was lap _four_ . The fact that she still had the energy to make her eyes sparkle like that was made even more _infuriating_ by the way his legs burned with every step. 

“Rayla…” She stopped just ahead of him and held out an arm, snagging him into her embrace. (Was she not even _sweating?_ It was _July_.) 

“Gotcha,” she said. She laid the briefest kiss on his nose unexpectedly. “Ew. Sweaty.” She commented, wrinkling her nose at him, before turning back around with a smile to keep jogging along. “Come on, now. Finish strong!” She called back over her shoulder. At least that implied there was an end in sight, he thought.

“No fair! I wanted a _real_ kiss!” He shouted up ahead. She had bounded ahead, somehow even faster than before.

“Then catch me!” Her voice echoed back to him.

He groaned and continued plodding along.

* * *

He’d expected to be forced to suffer through _some_ kind of sword fighting lesson as a part of their little boot-camp, so, logically, he assumed that was why they were in the clearing where she and Soren and Allen had been sparring every other day.

“Just so you know, this is _not_ going to be good,” he sighed, putting his pack down. 

“You don’t even know what we’re doing,” she said, arms crossed and a knowing smile on her lips.

“Enlighten me,” Callum responded dully, crossing his arms right back at her.

“Tumbling,” she explained simply. Whatever witty retort that’d begun to form in his mind stalled out when she stepped closer to him and tugged his jacket off his shoulders. His breath caught in his throat worse than it had during their run.

“This’ll just be in the way.” She smirked, his jacket landing on top of his bag before she began pulling at his scarf. “This too, I’m afraid.” She looped it around her own neck instead of adding it to the pile. 

“Now, then, can you do a cartwheel?” The words barely registered as distracted as he was by the impulse to imitate her habit of grabbing onto his scarf when they kissed. The thought made him drift closer, but she was pulling away to demonstrate before his hands made it to her. She modeled the move, legs turning over her torso effortlessly, even as she stretched out the cartwheel into deliberately slow motions. She turned back to cartwheel in the other direction after her feet hit the ground, faster now and one-handed after the initial demonstration

“Show off,” he tried to frown about it but couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth in check. He let his good-natured grumbling fade, prepared to put forth an earnest effort. “But, uh...maybe? I haven’t tried since I was, like, 8?”

“Try.” He raised his arms over his head, pulled a leg up in the air, and tried to turn over his hands like she had. Legs to the sky, he froze, though, and without the momentum of moving forward, his behind ended up in the grass, only half of the cartwheel completed. “Could be worse,” she said with a decidedly patient smile. What an awfully sweet lie to tell him, he thought.

She didn’t snicker at him, either. He laughed anyway. “How? How could that have been _worse?_ ” 

“Go again,” she said as she pulled him up, her smile sweet and reassuring. He raised his arms above his head again, startling when she tweaked his stance so his hips faced forward instead of to the side. It took seeing his flushed face for a blush to spread on her cheeks, though, as she stepped away to stand just to the side of the path of his next cartwheel. Her eyes cut from his hands in the air, to meet his gaze, then to where she’d touched his hips, then to the ground, face reddening even more. “I’m...I’m, uh, going to catch your legs this time so you can get through the second half.” 

He tried again, and she helped his legs windmill back to the ground this time. His footing was still unsure, but at least he’d made it back onto his feet this time.

“See? Not so bad at all,” she said. Her knowing smirk was back.

“Didn’t fall at least,” he shrugged. 

“Try again. Don’t bend your arms,” she ordered, pulling his left arm straight. “Elbows by your ears.” He took off again. She didn’t have to touch him to keep him moving through this time, but he still stumbled out of the cartwheel awkwardly.

“Good.” The flutter her little smile gave him was different than usual. He felt...proud? “Now, watch.” She pulled out a blade to cut a line in the dirt in front of them, then lunged forward to begin another slow-motion cartwheel. 

How could she balance like that so _easily_? It seemed to be nothing to her to hold herself up by a single hand, then both, then by just the other, gracefully and deliberately bringing each limb to the ground. Her hand-prints in the dirt fell in place along the line she’d drawn, as did her feet when they touched down. 

“Feet and hands all go in a straight line on the ground.” She stayed at the other end of the line when she was done, apparently deciding he didn’t need to be spotted. “One more time,” she gestured to the space between them.

He set his jaw, turned his hips, straightened his elbows and focused on the line she’d drawn. With a deep breath, he pushed himself forward, kicking legs over hands, and found himself a little proud again as he stepped confidently out of the cartwheel. He straightened up, smiling, and saw Rayla beaming back at him. 

* * *

He’d been right that the sparring would come eventually, but he quelled any complaint when the time arrived, given how sweet and encouraging she’d been all day.

And he found himself rewarded with even more sweet encouragement when she didn’t hand him the spare wooden sword after she’d accepted Soren and Allen’s challenge. Instead, she held up a hand to stop him when he went to go reach for it and said simply, with a shake of her head, “No sword for you, _mage_.” 

She couldn’t possibly know, he thought, how much that made his heart swell with affection for her. Being by her side already dissolved a lot of his unease, simply because it was _Rayla—_ fierce, and fast, and bright—next to him. But the implication that she understood the bitter humiliation he associated with sword fighting combined with her faith in what he _could_ do rather than focusing on what he _couldn’t_ ? He grinned.

She was just _so_...

A little lovesick cloud of warmth and appreciation overtook him, leaving him feeling like he could breathe a little deeper. He made a mental note to tell her about it—maybe _kiss her_ about it—later.

For now, though, he shook off the fond fog clouding his head, and discarded his jacket once more.

It was odd seeing her wield the single wooden blade, but the difference didn’t seem to impede her at all as she sprang into action. He hung back at first, unsure of how exactly he could help.

“Callum! Do _something_!” She called amidst her efforts to parry both Soren and Allen’s blows while he stood there dumbly. 

“Uh…” She spun away from their opponents for a moment, and dug the tip of her blade into the ground kicking up dust, continuing the circular momentum of her turn. Her eyes flashed brightly as her head whipped around towards him. He smiled, eyes narrowing in understanding, as he drew his first rune. “Oh! _Aspiro!”_

As the circular spin of his wind continued what she’d started, stirring up a large cloud of dusty dirt, Rayla leapt backward, somersaulting in the air before deftly landing on a low tree limb at the edge of the clearing. 

It took a moment for Soren and Allen to emerge from the haze, but Callum felt his eyebrows shoot upward when they did as they charged directly for him. Hastily, he shot another spell at the ground between them, this time shouting “ _Fulminis!”_ They stumbled backward, just as Rayla flipped down to land in front of him. She pivoted to look at him again.

“I wasn’t expecting—”

“Here,” he said, interrupting her as he watched Soren regain his footing easily. He bent down, fingers threaded together for her to step in. “Jump!” She did, without question, and he flung her up and towards them. He immediately followed up, casting another _aspiro_ in her direction, air swirling around her to keep her moving all the way over their heads to land on Soren’s other side. She dug her heels into the dirt, stopping herself with a skid that kicked up more dust.

Soren’s attention was trained on Rayla, which left just Allen, enormous sword in hand, looking expectantly at Callum. With a deep breath that he hoped would aid in his precision, he fired off another _fulminis_ at the tip of the weapon as Allen started to move towards him. Callum grinned for a moment, pleased with the direct and accurate hit, but startled and yelped when he saw that the lightning had made the _wooden_ sword catch fire at the end.

“Ah! Time out!” Callum called, pointing at it. Allen blinked at the now-flaming sword a moment before dropping it to the ground and stomping out the fire.

“There are no time-outs in sw-” Soren said, looking over his shoulder mid-parry, distracted just long enough for Rayla to knock the fake sword out of his hands and into the dirt. “-ord fighting.” His voice fell. He sighed, joining the firefighting efforts.

When Callum looked up once the flames had been fully smothered, he found Rayla beaming at him fondly again, leaning against the end of her practice sword stuck into the dirt. Her smile lit up her entire face, and he couldn’t help but be pulled into her gravity. He hastened the laughter-filled apologies that had ended with a clap on the back from Soren in order to cross to her.

“We make a pretty good team, mage,” she said fondly, with an added hint of smug satisfaction. Her eyes grew half lidded and drifted down to his lips as he moved into her space. He brought his fingers to her cheek and angled her mouth to his for a short kiss. “Go again tomorrow?” She asked, face still cradled in his hand.

“I don’t think I’m going to even be able to _move_ in the morning. I’m going to be _so_ sore after today,” he winced a little as he chuckled, thinking about how even their little run last night had made him all stiff. “I think you owe me a lazy day.”

“Pft...don’t be a baby,” she said, pushing him gently away while she sassed him. She took his hand and started pulling him towards dinner. “I have _just_ the thing to help with sore muscles, though.” She winked. He felt a jolt run up his spine and color spread across his cheeks when she squeezed his hand and shot him yet another brilliant smile. “But fine. Lazy day. You earned it.”


	9. physical touch, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla can't take the nightmares anymore and seeks some comfort...even if she can't bring herself to actually tell Callum about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow wow wow, this got long!!
> 
> There was a lot I was trying to work in here. Honestly, this chapter is a lot more angsty and hurt/comfort-y than it is fluffy...definitely the most painful chapter yet, in my opinion. It certainly was to write, at least.
> 
> PSA: This chapter is definitely T rated...both for Rayla's nightmares and for some more, well, physical touch (it is the love language theme of the chapter, after all). I've put em dashes before and after our two dumb dorky teens fumbling around with being a little more touchy in case that weirds anyone out. Still just sweet, awkward fluff, really though.
> 
> One more chapter to go!! (Maybe an epilogue? Certainly have some more post TTM one-shot ideas...I have some references in this chapter [to one I already wrote](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968990) that still mostly fits with this fic.)
> 
> As always, any comments are appreciated! Thanks friends!

This time, when she woke with a start, it was still dark outside. 

Rayla bolted upright. The chill that went down her spine seemed to begin from her scalp and seep down her cheeks and neck until her whole body shook with the shiver. The only warmth she felt was the little patch of short, cut hair just above her neck that always, always radiated heat since she’d gifted Callum with the little lock of her hair. She wiped the tears and sweat away with her sleeve and pulled her knees into her chest, burying her face. Her heart continued to pound. She shivered again and tried to slow her breath, even though she knew it would do no good to relax the tightness in her chest. Even when her body was exhausted, that feeling, along with the pit in her stomach, never quite faded, especially not at night. The tension pulled her in and out of sleep, in and out of nightmares. 

As wide awake with panic as her body was, her eyes tried over and over to drift back closed. The shattered fragments of her dreams that she knew waited for her made her fight to keep them open, night after night. Whenever she inevitably lost that battle, her eyes closing and her mind submitting her body’s exhaustion, it was only ever a matter of time before she jolted awake and started the whole process over again: fighting to keep her eyes open, losing that battle, sleeping restlessly for some short, indeterminate amount of time, then waking with a start when she lost the battle _in_ her dreams too. Waking when she’d fought and failed to protect him. Waking when he fell apart before her.

The pressing sense of heartache when she looked across to Callum on the other side of the room was the only thing worse than the panic that woke her each night.

The worst dreams began with Callum screaming for her, abruptly cut off—eyes still wide and tearful—as the ice encased him. By the time she woke from those dreams, in which she watched him shatter to pieces while his eyes still shined at her beneath the ice, her throat was so stiff and swollen that she was sure she must’ve been screaming too. Every time she woke up to find him sound asleep, the room echoing with just the sounds of her choking on her own breath. She never got back to sleep after that variation on the nightmare, and it always, _always_ seemed to happen on nights when they’d been particularly reluctant to part ways before bed. Rayla was sure that dream waited for her next.

She’d wanted _so badly_ to stay cuddled up next to him tonight, to stay locked in his embrace. She’d rubbed all of the soreness out of his arms, and then they’d been so comforting, heavy and warm and relaxed, slung around her waist. When he’d walked her towards her bed, the bad feelings struck her particularly hard when he pulled those arms away. The dread of lying down alone to stare at the ceiling, desperately fighting her exhaustion, made her eyes water. She wanted to stay in his warmth instead of facing the chilly terror. The only real rest she got anymore was with Callum, after all, dozing against him under their napping tree in the afternoons. She’d steeled herself, though, while he kissed her goodnight, pushing the fear down and away from the surface so that he couldn’t feel it too. She hoped, at least.

The terror she felt every night was horrible, truly, but she could bear that burden alone. He didn’t need that. It was... _unspeakable_ , and he didn’t need to be tortured _with_ her. Her resolve on that point did nothing, though, to assuage the guilt and worry and _aching_ that had long ago begun to leak into her waking thoughts, turning her stomach at random intervals. It did nothing to satisfy the _comfort_ she needed—a need that was becoming unmanageable, especially when she was lonely in the dark like this. In the daylight, at least, she could go to him to find some solace in his hand wrapped around hers and even some levity in some stupid, stupid pun of his. She never had bad dreams when she slept in his lap in the balmy afternoon shade, his fingers in her hair. She touched the warm spot under the rest of her hair like he did sometimes while she napped.

This heartache that gripped her, watching from across the room as his shoulders rose and fell ever so slightly _right there_ but yet _so far_ from her still, was really the problem that was pulling her so very close to the breaking point: the point where she’d become so desperate to touch him...just to be sure that _this_ was reality. That he was warm and alive and safe.

She fought with herself. She _knew_ he’d try to get her talk about all of it if she went over there and woke him. But, he was _right there_ and she also knew that his arms would be warm and his voice would be soothing and his eyes would be loving, and she thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , she could dissuade him from asking too many questions. She could finesse a way to keep this one secret, horrible fear still buried. She would bare her whole soul to him..but not this. She could protect him from this. He didn’t have to feel it too.

But she couldn’t go on without sleep, without rest...without at least a _sliver_ of peace. At least not tonight.

So, she crept out of her bed to kneel at the side of his. The aching in her chest faded a little when she touched him, brushing his hair to the side. The twinge of guilt she’d felt for setting out to wake him faded too when he blinked open his eyes and smiled seeing her there. She knew the sense of relief that flooded her heart and softened her brow was entirely in her head, based completely in her nightmares, but she couldn’t help the moisture that began to accumulate in the corners of her eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered softly before his eyes drowsily drifted shut again. His hand grappled clumsily for hers. She caught it with both of hers and kissed the base of his thumb. She watched, heart filling with fondness when his eyebrows twitched a little closer together and the corner of his mouth tugged briefly to one side in a sleepy attempt at a smile. So peaceful. The way he should _always_ get to look.

“Callum,” she sighed, cringing at the way her voice broke. His eyes flew open in alarm and her heart fell at how she’d already failed at keeping him from her pain. She’d really, _really_ hoped to mask how miserable she felt. Of course, she had no doubt he’d see right through her—coming to him, desperate to touch him, in the middle of the night—but simply not being able to hide how she was feeling was enough to betray just how horrible she felt. She knew that. She knew that Callum knew that.

“Rayla?” He grasped at her hands more tightly, pulling against them as he sat up. He whispered gently. “What’s wrong?” 

And so the questions began.

A tear had leaked out, born, ironically, of her frustration with her inability to keep it together. Two of Callum’s fingers wiped it away, softly grazing against her face. He closed his fingers so his knuckles rested against her cheek now as his thumb rubbed, feather-light, against the dark marking under her eye. He frowned and looked at her with such...pity. He could pity her, she decided, as long as he didn’t know why. Letting him share her sorrow, after all, wasn’t the same as sharing her fear. He could comfort her without knowing the reason. He’d hold her even if she didn’t want to tell him. She shivered, missing the warmth of his arms that she’d be so reluctant to leave earlier in the evening.

“Callum, I really don’t want to talk,” she said, sniffling and wiping her sleeve against the other side of her face, where his fingers weren’t taking care of her tears. “But, I need…” She looked to the side, suddenly self-conscious about how much she wanted to be in his arms. Maybe it was that being in his arms also meant being in his bed in the dark, middle of the night or maybe it was that she was actually _asking_ instead of just assuming he wanted her there, but she hadn’t felt this shy tingle—the one that made her breath catch and her ears droop—in a while.

“Anything, Rayla. What do you need?.” She didn’t speak, but just met his eyes again instead, finding them almost _relieved_ that there was something he could do for her. She just climbed up next to him wordlessly, knees on his bed, instead of answering. The corner of his mouth twitched into a little reassuring smile and he met her eyes with a gentle twinkle that she recognized as compassion. He threw off the blanket and opened his arms. “Come here, love.”

She felt her eyebrows knit across her forehead again and her ears twitch—up this time—at that sweet little word that’d left his lips. He’d never called her that before. She moved towards his embrace.

She could tell by the way his shoulders rose a tiny bit that he hadn’t expected her to lay across his lap like she had. When he relaxed though, adjusted to the way she’d curled around his middle, he pulled her closer with an arm wrapped around her back and the other across her knees. She breathed in deep, flooded again with that sense of relief. She looped her arms around his neck. 

“That’s better,” she sighed, nuzzling her nose against his soft cheek. She couldn’t help but press a kiss there too. She liked the way his cheeks squished a little under the gentle pressure of her lips. She burrowed her nose into the hair that hung messily over his ear. _That_ was the kind of reassurance she needed—the squishiness of his cheek and the softness of his hair against her skin and the scent of the soap he’d washed up with after their training day. She exhaled against his ear, and his shoulders shook a little.

“Rayla!” he said, his concerned tone replaced by the lilt of laughter.

“Nope, no talking,” she whispered, intentionally against his ear again. She chuckled back when he brought his shoulder up near his ear, blocking her access to it.

“Tickles.” He said quickly before she could cut him off again, laughing some more. She scooted down, following his shoulder back to its natural position to rest her head on it instead. “Rayla—”

“One word only,” she scolded sweetly.

“Poke,” he said, taking his hand from her back, and reaching up to where one of her horns dug into his shoulder.

“Oh. Sorry,” she moved to press her forehead against his neck instead.

“Cold?” She smiled at how he was still following her dumb rule.

“Sure,” she responded. He pulled the blanket up around her legs, and she sighed, feeling both literally and figuratively even more enveloped in his warmth. She let her grip around his neck slacken, pleased to find his hand at her back ready to hold her up and keep cradling her close to his chest. She wondered if he was as conscious as she was of his hand that was now resting against her hip instead of around her knees.

She felt the shy tingle return when she realized that—her need for comfort on its way to being satiated—she really, _really_ wanted to be kissing him. In the middle of the night. In the dark. In his bed. That’d be okay, right?

She replaced her forehead against his neck with her lips. 

“What do?” He muttered, after taking in a shaky breath. 

“What?” She laughed. She didn’t think _one little kiss_ would make him incapable of complete sentences, even if she was in his lap.

“I was trying to follow the rules.” _Oh_. She’d forgotten already. “Couldn’t ask with just one word though.” He chuckled even as his voice broke nervously, and the rest of the words came out in stammering chunks. She kissed again. “What, uh, what are you doing?” She smiled against the soft skin she’d kissed, realizing that it hadn’t taken him long to get to the same space her head was in.

“Callum,” she said, his name followed by another kiss. “Can you...distract me?” One kiss against his neck would have been innocent enough, but two, then three, punctuated by hot air, just like he’d breathed against her neck after the rainstorm...she was pleased to hear she’d elicited a response similar to what her own had been that morning.

“Rayla,” he sighed. She hummed back in response, kissing below his ear this time. “You’re...you’re upset.” She leaned her forehead back down against his neck. “I don’t want to take advantage…”

“Callum, you couldn’t do that even if you tried. I’m _asking_ you to distract me,” she muttered into the darkness, pulling herself closer against his chest. “Please. I’ll feel better.” His arm around her back tightened its grip, fingers tugging her gently away by the small of her waist. She relaxed back against his arm, smiling that he would oblige her—of _course_ he would—and he brought her up to his lips to kiss her. 

She wasn’t sure if it was the darkness, or the way he had to lean down for once to kiss her, or maybe the little sighs she let out against his mouth, but there was something... _confident_ about Callum’s lips on hers like this. And she wasn’t sure _why_ she found these kisses so particularly satisfying. They weren’t particularly deep or impassioned...just slow, languid kisses like the ones they stole behind trees in the middle of the day. Maybe it was just that they were _steady_ , and that she needed that right now. She wondered if she was _that_ much of an open book to him that he could feel that, or if this was just a happy coincidence.

She let herself get lost in the gentle sounds of their kisses that echoed quietly in the silence of the night and the sensation of his warm lips pressing against hers over and over. There was only Callum. Only his lips on hers. Only his arms holding her tight. Nothing else, she told herself.

“I love you,” she muttered when his lips had left hers for a moment. She could barely hear the words herself. He kissed her again before he responded.

“I love you too,” he whispered back. The hand that had rested lazily against her hip now threaded through her hair for a moment—and then it was doing something that it... _probably_ shouldn’t have been doing.

—

Instead of returning—a little teasingly, she thought, but ultimately chastely—to her hip, he kept her drawn to him now by a hand touched gently to her backside.

“Okay?” He breathed. She blinked her eyes open, and found his, hazy and serious and deep forest-green in the dim moonlight through the window, staring back at her intensely.

“Okay,” she whispered back, rotating her hips towards him to show him so. She brought her left hand to his cheek to pull him back to their kiss. His tongue, warm and lazy as the rest of his kisses had been, gently touched against her lips now each time he kissed her. Her fingers curled into his collar and she felt herself begin to get short of breath. It was unclear to her, though, whether that was due to her heart pounding in her chest in reaction to him touching her like he hadn’t before, as his fingers pressed boldly against soft flesh, or their mutual lack of interest in pausing for air between kisses. 

Rayla separated from him for a moment to breathe against his neck—her purpose had been for actual air this time rather than just to entice him—and he sighed her name again. The hand on her rear drifted to the center of her chest, grasping shyly, really more at the loose fabric of her pajamas than anything. She stiffened under his unexpected touch and leaned back again to look at him. His hand was...warm. It was...nice. He withdrew, curling his hand up into a loose fist atop the yellow fabric, with a question in his eyes.

“Brave, aren’t we?” Her words were teasing, but she knew she was wide-eyed and serious sounding, a little taken aback by his forwardness. He pulled his hand away, and she regretted her reaction instantly with the loss of contact. His face flushed for the first time all night.

“Sorry, sorry!” he started, looking away. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking. I—”

“Callum, it’s fine,” she breathed, remembering how she’d let her hands wander along his bare shoulders when she’d worked out the knots there earlier. “I—I touched _you_ a lot earlier,” she said, quoting this as a manufactured and wholly unnecessary justification. She wasn’t sure if it was for herself or for him. She reached for his hand and put it back over her heart. It was his, anyway. _She_ was his, anyway. “Go ahead.”

Back to the serious, piercing stare, he looked at her again, letting his fingers spread against her tentatively. His green eyes followed her hand as she used it to move his further left. She pulled herself up to capture his lips briefly against hers again encouragingly and then he was smiling down at her, eyes full and _confident_ again. Her breath caught in her throat with the intoxicating combination of his tender expression and his thumb caressing lightly over sensitive flesh, guarded by the fabric of her— _his_ —pajamas, in tiny, gentle strokes. The warmth of the rest of his hand, still and heavy against her, was welcome. 

“That’s—that’s all, though,” she breathed, conscious that he had been at least a _little_ right earlier. This _had_ started from a desire for comfort and that wasn’t exactly synonymous with... _this_ . He nodded. Still, though, she pressed her lips back against his and found his kisses had grown gentler as if to counteract the excitement of more new touches. Somehow, she thought, this seemed _so_ much more intimate than his hand pressing against her backside and she wasn’t sure if that was in _spite_ of or _because_ of how delicately his thumb traced its tiny path over and over.

—

“Enough distraction for you?” He asked when they paused again. The breathy chuckle at the end of his question didn’t match the rest of his still-serious tone, his thumb still moving in a rhythm more soothing than anything. She exhaled with an equally nervous laugh and agreed, but the reminder of how they got here brought her crashing back down to reality. 

Before she could even say anything, his hand had retreated to her waist. How could Callum just _sense_ that shift in her like that? Was she really _that_ obvious? _He_ was, but until him, Rayla hadn’t thought she was. It was, honestly, a little frustrating, especially now because the questions were _surely_ incoming. She curled up against him again, forehead pressed to his neck once more, attempting to burrow back into the comfort if she wasn’t going to be distracted any longer.

After a few moments of quiet comfort, he started to whisper to her against her hair. His warm breath hit the same spot that the chill always started from when she woke up in the night. 

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk but—” 

“I don’t,” she interrupted, more irritably than she’d intended. If she couldn’t bring herself to _tell him_ , what else could she do besides _insist_?

“I’m _worried_ about you, Rayla,” he said, with a smallness in his voice that squeezed at her heart. She responded by grasping back at him more tightly. 

He wouldn’t be Callum if he _weren’t_ worried about her, she mused. She wished it could be enough for him to _just comfort her_ , though. She wished he didn’t need answers and spoken feelings for _everything_ , especially now, when she just _couldn’t_ bring herself to give him that. Not with this. She could know that he was safe and warm and alive without talking. He didn’t have to _hurt_ like her to help her, and letting him into _her_ pain would just cause _him_ pain. She couldn’t bear that. She could protect him from that, if he’d just _let her_. 

His lips pressed a kiss to the top of her head, right between her horns.

“Can I ask you five questions?” He asked after a few silent moments. “They’re yes or no. ”

She scoffed. “Depends.”

“On?” Oops. He sounded a little hurt.

“Is this going to go as poorly as the last time we played this game?” She softened her tone and was grateful when he chuckled.

“Uh…no?”

“Fine.” She agreed, hoping that maybe he’d actually be satisfied and that she could still manage to keep the worst pieces buried this way. “But then we’re done talking,” she insisted firmly.

“Okay,” he said. He didn’t hesitate. “Are you having nightmares?”

“Yes.” _Obviously,_ she wanted to say. 

“Are they about Viren?” She cursed the icy chill that went down her spine for betraying her fear.

“Yes,” she said simply. Callum’s arms tighten around her with each exchange. 

“Does...does he hurt you in them?” The lowering of his voice was dark. Darker than she’d heard him sound before. 

“If we’re sticking with just yes and no...no,” she said, discounting the turmoil the dreams were causing her.

“Does he hurt _other_ people in them?” He was dangerously close to the heart of the matter. She hesitated. The patch of warmth on her scalp came to her attention. She didn’t want to have to outright _lie_ to him. She was glad her head was tucked under his chin so she didn’t have to _look_ at him.

“...yes.” She said finally, after waiting for a tense moment. Her breath was shaky.

Rayla knew if he asked the question she thought he would, it would be over. She’d be sobbing and gasping and telling him about it all and then he’d be just as scared and panicked and upset as she was. She steeled herself...but then that wasn’t the question.

“Will you tell me more about them when you’re feeling better?” There was an air of resignation and finality to his last question. Like he... _wanted_ to let her off the hook. She couldn’t lie about this response either, though.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. No. Sorry.” That last part was a half-truth, she thought. Or at least a _complicated_ truth. She _was_ sorry that she couldn’t give him what he wanted. But, protecting him was more important than that. She hadn’t promised to give him everything, even if there was nothing she wanted to do more.. She _had_ promised to protect him. She couldn’t be sorry for that.

His tone shifted and he stopped squeezing her quite so tightly. “Can I ask _six_ questions?”

“Callum, I really don’t—” 

“Do you want to stay here with me tonight?” He asked gently. He traced his fingers along her arm.

“Yes. Please.” She exhaled, ready to retreat back to the safety of his warmth and comfort and _love_ again. A fleeting worry about having a nightmare in his arms crossed her mind, but, somehow, she knew she wouldn’t. She eased herself out of his lap to lie down next to him, taking his hand as they both came to their sides, facing each other. “Don’t let go, okay?” She asked, squeezing at the warm connection. 

“Whatever you need, love,” he mumbled drowsily. Her heart fluttered again,

She hesitated in closing her eyes, finding herself contented and comforted by watching him sleep, but, inevitably, they drifted closed like his had.

The first things she became aware of when she awoke were dim morning light and his hand, still in hers.


	10. words of affirmation, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum is struggling with Rayla's insistence on going into the portal alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience while I took my time on this chapter. This (and the other more angsty chapters of this fic) has been a challenge for me. I've enjoyed the challenge, but it certainly makes the chapters take a little longer to write...especially when they end up being 6500 words like this one.
> 
> I have a couple of notes at the end of the chapter!
> 
> Without further ado...

She’d slipped away again. 

When Callum had turned back to the table after finishing up with dish duty, he counted four, rather five, still gathered at the table after their meal. He looked to the side, towards Rayla’s seat, when he sat back down, wanting to be able to listen to Ezran and Soren’s tag-team retelling of their trip into town today, but he found himself brooding and distracted instead. He frowned, resting his head in his hands. 

When it was Soren’s turn to narrate the veterinarian’s reaction to figuring out that Ezran was the king, Ez took the moment to make eye contact with Callum and nodded his head to the side—he assumed in the direction that Rayla had gone. He mustered a small grateful smile and excused himself, knowing just where he’d find her.

* * *

Rayla had been awake before he was that morning. 

Normally when that happened, he’d look across the room to her to find her expression already pained and exhausted as she gazed back, her brow furrowed and a certain melancholic fog across her eyes. She was never quite able to make the smile she greeted him with in the mornings convincing. Callum always smiled back anyway. 

Today, though, there had been no tension in her brow when he’d blinked his eyes open to find her laying on her side, looking at him, their fingers still intertwined and drawn up to her lips. Having woken up next to him, the sleepy haze in her eyes showed nothing but blissful contentment. His heart swelled seeing rare peace written across her face, and he thought that he’d sell his soul if it meant keeping her looking so relaxed like this all the time.

The smile had been effortless this time when she whispered to him: “Good morning.” She laid a kiss to the back of his hand before letting go for the first time since the middle of the night and leaning over him on an elbow instead. She scooted a little closer in the process.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked groggily, though he could guess the answer. He breathed in deeply to rouse himself and stretched a little, settling his hand over her shoulder and against her back. There was a dull ache in his limbs from Rayla’s training regimen, but she really _had_ helped prevent the worst of the soreness, her hands firm against stiff muscles after dinner yesterday.

“Better than I have in weeks,” she said, eyes growing half-lidded. She brought her hand to rest against his chest and her kiss to his cheek. “Thanks.” Her lips passed near his ear and he pressed against her back lightly to keep her close.

“Happy to have been of service,” he smiled at her, as her eyes—still the haziest, softest purple he could imagine—narrowed to his lips and she came closer again. It was a short-lived kiss, though, as, after a moment, he felt her nose wrinkle. 

“Bleh. Morning breath.” She pulled away with a good-natured grimace and collapsed into his side. She was more careful with her horns than she’d been last night, angling her head against his shoulder _just so_ as she snuggled closer again.

“So...how lazy is lazy?” he asked, reluctant to leave their little warm cocoon of blankets and limbs. 

“We should _probably_ still eat breakfast,” she sighed. That’d mean they’d have to get up soon. “But _I’m_ staying in my pajamas, and I’m blaming _you_.” She jabbed a finger into his side and gave him the sweetest glare he’d ever seen.

Fine by him.

* * *

She’d claimed his bed again after breakfast, bursting back through their door cheerily and immediately tossing a pillow to the foot of the bed and reaching for her book on his nightstand. She plopped down on her stomach, sprawling out diagonally and propping the book up against the bed frame.

He’d been close behind, but she’d settled quickly, and his fingers itched in the doorway when he saw how very comfortable and cozy and content-looking she still looked. Callum couldn’t help but snag his sketchbook from the desk.

He sat across from her, legs crossed on her bed, and she frowned at first before glancing to his sketchbook with a slight nod. A single corner of her mouth crept upward. 

“How should I pose _this_ time?” Rayla asked, looking at him coyly and resting her head in both of her hands. She winked as they smiled at each other. He let his eyes roll a tiny bit at her flirtation. 

“Just...do whatever you were going to do,” he responded, gazing fondly. He busied himself a moment, thumbing through the pages for a clean sheet, giving her time to settle again into a natural moment. When he looked back up, his heart warmed again, and he got to work.

He felt compelled to capture the way her fingers absentmindedly tugged at a piece of hair, repeatedly weaving a slim little braid and then pulling it apart over and over. Charcoal scratching delicately at the lines of her fingers, his free hand patted at his chest, searching for the gentle, reassuring heat of the matching braid she’d given him. He wondered vaguely if it’d be radiating even more warmth than normal the way he’d noticed it doing whenever he’d felt for it in fond moments over the past week. He was disappointed to realize that it was across the room, still pinned to the inside of his jacket. 

Her head was angled to the side and she stared at the page, giving the _appearance,_ at least, that she was reading the book he’d slid her way back at the castle, but his observant eye as he sketched caught how frequently she glanced up at him and how infrequently she turned the page. His focus broke to consider for a moment, with a slight smile, how long she could keep up the _lazy day_ attempt, especially given the way one of her shins, lifted in the air, bounced up and down and twirled at the ankle every few moments, betraying her restlessness. He wished he could somehow put those telling little motions on the paper.

His attention drifted to filling in other little details, like her other foot that hung off of the side of the bed and the ripples in her pajamas where they bunched up around her elbows and knees There was a twinge of aching that he didn’t expect as he drew the curve of her waist, which he knew to be soft and warm, and realized another piece of _why_ he’d felt so compelled to commit this image to paper. 

The vulnerability she allowed him to see struck him, like it had last night as she’d let herself melt against him, guarded only in her words. She let other people steal glimpses of the softness and warmth beneath the bravado, but she only actually _showed_ him, seeking him out with secret squeezes to his hand, and sideways smiles when no one was looking, and tearful pursuits of midnight comfort. 

Those moments were just theirs, and even if her vulnerability wasn’t complete, limited to what she _did_ while she still held back the words, he still warmed knowing that she gave him that much of herself so willingly. He shook off a moment of doubt that made him wonder if she _couldn’t_ let her guard down entirely and let that vulnerability leak into her words too, or if she didn’t _want_ to. 

He could find reasons—bittersweet as they were—to want both of those things to be true. At least if she didn’t want to, she was in control. At least if she couldn’t, it meant that she wanted to. He still wished that she’d _just talk to him_ —just _trust_ him. He could accept that that was difficult for her to do...but hadn’t they promised each other that?

His grip around the charcoal tightened, thinking back to the way her eyes had glistened tearfully and the way she’d choked back her hurt as she spoke his name in the dark. She’d felt so disturbingly _fragile_ in his arms, shaking and small and sad—so, _so_ sad. Her voice had trembled even with the single-word answers she’d given him in response to his gentle attempts to sift through her reticence. 

The last line he’d drawn had wavered, like her voice had. He shut the cover.

“Hey...you okay?” She asked, looking at him worriedly. _She_ didn’t need to be worried about _him_. Callum blinked away the discontent and left the sketchbook on her bed.

“Scoot over.”

* * *

He’d been right that her laziness had its limits: she’d grown restless and fidgety as the morning continued. So, they’d finally dressed before lunch and found themselves wandering to their tree after eating, where Rayla had pulled his head down into her lap for a change. He understood now why she liked his fingers through her hair when she napped, as her hands alternated between brushing his hair across his forehead and tracing the runes on his arms again. 

Her finger, light against his skin, connected the lines of the _manus_ rune where his scabbed over scratches from earlier in the week had interrupted the pattern. 

It tickled a little, but Callum didn’t want to interrupt the sweet attention she was paying him. He smiled, thinking that he supposed that she _did_ tell him some things. She _had_ , after all and adorably, continued on through her own blushing and stammering while admitting her fondness for the markings. She let him see the _sweet_ and vulnerable things, at least, even if she wasn’t willing to talk about her nightmares...or the portal, for that matter. A wave of tension hit him, remembering the icy way she’d thrown his desire to protect her back in his face that day when he’d suggested going with her. How could something rooted in so much love be _such_ a sore spot?

“You haven’t tried it again,” she said softly, moving to gently trace out _pluma_. Her demeanor had shifted. She looked at the white markings with a little too much focus now, her lips set in a stiff straight line. Their eyes met and he saw that the gloom that she’d seemed to have evaded from all morning was back. 

“I’m not sure I can do it at all away from the Spire,” he said, watching her intense stare at the runes return. He tentatively continued the conversation she’d begun, reluctant to stir up the melancholy again but relieved that she was _talking_ at least. 

Based on the tiny fragments of information he had about her difficulty sleeping, he wondered if maybe she dreamt of falling. He could envision—better than anyone—a nightmarish variation on her reality where she watched others fall instead of falling herself, perhaps explaining why she’d said _she_ wasn’t hurt in her dreams. Her confirmation that Viren was the antagonist in her nightmares fit. Maybe her parents took her place in her dreams? Maybe...maybe _he_ did.

If that was it, though, why wouldn’t she just _tell_ him?

“Maybe if I really needed to, I could,” he concluded. If falling _was_ the dream, maybe she needed to hear that he could save her again.

He was surprised when she scoffed and smiled. He felt his theory evaporate. “Well, I’m not planning on jumping off any mountains again any time soon.” 

_Just into mind-shattering, moon-magic portals_ , he wanted to snark back, already feeling on edge from trying to unravel the mystery of her nightmares. The tension—static-y and heavy—returned.

But, as willing as he was to go with her and as unhappy as he was about her determination to do this alone, he _really_ didn’t want another screaming match. So, he bit his tongue—after all, he was _absolutely_ responsible for enabling her to do this, even if he had intended her to do this with him—but his careful control of his countenance lapsed. When her stare locked onto him again, the momentary gleam of humor fell away when she glimpsed the plain apprehension that had narrowed his eyes.

“Guess wings wouldn’t be much help for jumping into lakes,” he said, softening the reflex that told him to talk her out of it—mostly because he knew she wouldn’t listen. Her hand stilled.

“No. They wouldn’t,” she said bluntly. He’d been right. “Especially because _you_ aren’t jumping into any lakes,” she insisted. She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“You hope,” he couldn’t help but respond. He couldn’t say he was sorry for the heat in his voice, either. The thought of _having_ to jump in after her turned his stomach. What if he didn’t even _know_ that she was in danger? What if he jumped in and it was too late? His fingers clenched into tight little balls in the grass and he felt a few pop out of the dirt beneath. If he thought it would’ve helped, he would’ve grabbed her by the shoulders and run down the list of questions and what-ifs currently ruthlessly ricocheting in his head. He knew it wouldn’t though.

She didn’t speak any more and neither did he.

Eventually her fingers started combing through his hair again.

* * *

As the heat of the day disappeared, the sun lowering in the sky, they retraced the path they’d run along, touring the trail around the Moon Nexus at a relaxed pace now. Their disagreement had dampered her short-lived peace and his resulting relief, but he still teased, and she still laughed. She still flirted, and he still blushed. He especially liked her narration of their walk, which had started with her happily telling him about how the blue roses at the trailhead reminded her of the Silvergrove and continued with a list of all of the other things she wanted to show him the next time they went back to Xadia.

They rounded the last bend of the trail, and Rayla stopped walking, giving his hand one of the little secret squeezes that he loved so much before letting go of it to peer down at a bush at the edge of the path. She touched its leaves.

“It...it can’t be,” she said, bending down further to look more closely at the greenery.

“What?” He crouched next to her curiously

“This is a lunabloom bush!” she said, turning to him, eyes bright, which pulled a smile across his lips. “It’s a flower we have back home,” she explained when he tilted his head to the side in search of more information. She plucked a leaf from the bush and twirled it between her fingers before standing up again.

“When do they bloom?” Callum followed her back to the dirt path. She passed him the leaf when he held out his hand. “We’ll have to come back,” he said as he examined it, feeling her eyes on him the whole time.

“Late summer,” she responded as they approached the patch of blue roses up ahead where they’d started. Then, she slowed a moment, her voice wavering again. “They’re...they’re Ethari’s favorites. Runaan liked them too. Likes.” She had stopped walking.

The words _I’m sorry_ died in his throat when he turned back to find her eyes trained on the ground and a tear falling from her cheek into the dirt. He pictured her, wordless and shy, seeking him out last night and knew now to wrap his arms tightly around her shoulders. He could guess enough even if she said nothing more. She slumped against him, and the bitter rush of understanding that had made him accept her solitary venture into the portal in the first place returned. She needed this.

He just wished she didn’t believe that she had to do it alone.

* * *

Rayla had been curled up on the boulder just the way he’d expected. It seemed that she’d been expecting him this time too. 

“Hi Callum,” she said, eyes still trained ahead, when his boot snapped a twig. When he started to climb up next to her, she turned to him, her hair falling over her shoulder, highlighted bright white by the waxing gibbous overhead. Her far-away look faded for just a brief moment before she turned back to look across the water at the glowing, nearly full moon. The way it reflected in the water was already impressive.

“Whatcha’ thinking about?” He nudged her shoulder with his.

“Moon,” she said, pointing upward before hugging her knees even closer into her chest. “Almost full.”

“You’re thinking about the moon?” Callum sat up a little straighter and blinked. That was...unusual for her, as far as he knew. She looked at him again with a slight, knowing smile and the understanding that she’d piqued his interest. His heart pounded just a little harder seeing that smirk.

“Kind of,” she shrugged. 

“How does it…” He squashed down the urge to ask her the kinds of questions he knew she’d soon grow exasperated with, like the ones he’d peppered her with about the impending new moon during their trip to the Nexus. ( _Are you tired? Or sad? Is it because of the moon? Do you feel better the fuller it is? Do you sleep better the newer the moon? Does it matter if it’s cloudy out? Ooh, what about eclipses?!)_ Maybe next month they’d have an uneventful full moon, and she’d let him annoy her about it and he wouldn’t feel bad for it.

“What about it?” was the question he settled on, focusing back on whatever was causing this particular heartache of hers that made her gaze wistfully at the night sky.

“Well,” she started, drawing out the first word with that smirk. “I’m just thinking about—wait.” She stopped abruptly to jab a finger into his shoulder. “You have to promise not to argue with me anymore.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t!” He put his hands up and leaned back defensively. She continued to glare. “Promise!” She seemed to be satisfied by that.

“I’m thinking about the portal.” She paused, and looked to the side, eyebrows knit in thought. He pressed his lips together to keep in the worry that bubbled up. “I’m thinking about how, right now, it feels like they’re both dead and alive—my parents, and Runaan, and...and Viren. It _feels_ like both are true, even though only one _is_ true.” She blinked and the tears that had been making her eyes shine in the moonlight now fell quietly down her cheeks. 

Angling toward him with a smile, genuine but tiny, she continued on to explain, wiping at the tears that had spilled over. “Anyway, that’s—that’s like the moon. I guess,” she shrugged and glanced back at it, squinting as she continued to think on it. “Maybe it’s the other way around. Lots of truths and one perception? I don’t know. I’m not doing a very good job explaining.” She looked at him, needlessly apologetic as she entrusted him with clearly tricky Big Feelings. 

He smiled back reassuringly, tickled just that _she was talking_ . The extra layer of thoughtful consideration she’d added to her efforts to let him understand her—as she framed those efforts as trying to give him insight about her arcanum rather than just about _her_ —was a little bittersweet. He wondered if opening up was easier for her that way—if she saw her vulnerability as serving _his_ needs rather than hers. He wished she’d do it—be vulnerable—for _herself._

“The point is, I don’t know what’s true, and dealing with _both_ possibilities, it’s—it’s really...difficult.” She looked to him and exhaled. Her grip around her knees loosened as she continued. “I’m thinking about how tomorrow night only one of them will feel true— _be_ true anymore, and how that might be... _more_ difficult.” 

A few illusions, he thought, would be broken tomorrow night—the illusion they’d been keeping up about their project, and, more importantly, the painful and unintentional illusions of these two truths that she’d been dealing with. He saw, better now, how her need for closure had been weighing on her, stalling her. At least if the truth broke her, she could heal. Her eyes welled with tears again, and he felt his heart break anew given this new understanding.

“So, I guess that I’m a little nervous...a little scared, Callum, about the portal,” Rayla admitted. He reached for her hand. “Not just about the water,” she said, barely chuckling.

She wrapped her fingers around his a little more tightly and mustered a tiny smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to return it, lost in inexplicable anger that he couldn’t just _fix it all_ for her—that he couldn’t somehow figure out how to give her back everyone she loves. She was ready to _risk her life_ —and for what? Just to hurt even more and—hopefully—heal? He hated that for her—that the only way to feel better was to first be in _even more_ pain. And alone, too, if she had her way. Tears of his own stung at his eyes. His breath grew unsteady, as his desire to protect her aligned with his wanting to fix everything that hurt and then never let her _be hurt_ again. He wanted to protect _her heart_ too, he thought.

“You know,” Callum ventured gently, “I could still come with you.”

“Callum, you said you wouldn’t argue,” she scolded, dropping his hand. That hurt worse than her sharp tone. “You’re not coming. It’s too dangerous. End of story,” she turned away bitterly.

“Rayla, you said it yourself that this is going to be difficult. Danger aside, I...I want to be there for you. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.” She let his hand that had fallen onto her back stay as she blinked back to him.

“That’s...sweet,” she sighed, and he breathed in relief, too, thinking for a fleeting moment that she would surrender. She pulled the hand he’d placed on her shoulder into her lap.

“But it doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry.”

Her tone—sorrowful, sweet, and soothing—would normally spread like a warm salve against his chest, but he couldn’t help the way it made his heart burst into flames instead. 

“How am I supposed to help you then, Rayla?” He felt his lip curl and he gripped more tightly at the hand she held. He stared at their fingers, focusing on keeping his volume low and rhythm steady. 

“Callum, you’ve already helped me. You’ve done... _so much_ for me. None of this would even be happening if not for you,” she said, trying to charm his distress away with a smile. It usually would have worked. 

Instead, tonight, it made him press his lips even more tightly together. He wanted to say that if he’d known she’d want to do this alone that he _never_ would’ve suggested opening the portal, but he caught himself because that wasn’t true. She _did_ need this. She just _didn’t need to do it alone_. 

“I just can’t let you risk yourself, Callum,” she continued, “especially not just _for me_ . This...this is _my_ problem. Not yours.”

He couldn’t help the scoff that flew out of the back of his throat.

“It’s your problem,” he repeated in disbelief.

“...right,” she said cautiously.

“Then, Rayla, it’s _my problem too_.” His cheeks burned, and the tears seared hot against his eyes. He slowed himself and met her eyes. “Your problems...are my problems.” Even the ones she wouldn’t tell him about, he thought bitterly, pressing her hand between both of his. How could she not see that? 

“They’re... _you’re_ important to me,” he said. He pulled at their joined hands as he pleaded. “I love you. Just...please.”

Her eyes narrowed, and then softened. She glanced to the moon across the way, and then down to the grey surface of the boulder below them. Looking back to him at last, she breathed in as if to speak, and then paused again, deflating. 

She turned to look at him and her fingers drifted to cheek.

“I love you too, Callum,” she said with resolve, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, ”and that’s why I’d feel better knowing that you’re safe.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. She wasn’t _hearing him_ , and he felt all of the pointed and angry words he wanted desperately to keep to the side pushing in. His temper overtook him and he pulled away, hiding his face in his hands with an exasperated groan. He’d withdrawn his hands so quickly, too, that when he looked back up, she was still startled and blinking at him. The venom in his voice didn’t surprise him as much as it seemed to surprise her.

“Yeah, I’d feel better knowing that you were safe too,” he retorted. She opened her mouth again as if to speak, but didn’t seem to have an answer. Her eyes shone for a moment at his angry tone before the resolve in them hardened again. 

How could she be so even-tempered, so _resolute_ , about this? How could she be so accepting of putting herself at risk, with no one—not even him—to fall back on? How could she just...discount his concern like that?

“Callum, I’ll be okay on my own. Trust me,” she said weakly, unknowingly stoking the frustration that had started to pour out.

He rolled his eyes, and watched hers widen in response. His cheeks glowed warm again at her nerve in bringing up _trust_ when trusting him was _exactly_ what she wasn’t doing—what she _didn’t_ do.

“Why can’t _you_ trust _me,_ Rayla?” His volume grew, and he heard his voice echo back to them from the trees nearby, pitched low and pained and pitiful. “If I say I want to go with you—if I say I want to protect you, why can’t you trust me enough to let me?” 

He breathed. She sat staring at him, and he expected anger in return but she just blinked at him instead, then cast her eyes down to the ground again. 

“Please, Callum, I—”

“Didn’t...didn’t we promise that to each other?” he asked. She looked back up, more pained than before. His voice broke between tight-throated cries. “To have faith in each other? To protect _each other_ ? I _can_ do that for you, you know. I’ve done it before! You said it yourself!”

“Callum...that’s not—”

“And while we’re at it,” he said, the dam welling in his concern now broken, “why don’t you trust me enough to tell me why you can’t sleep? Huh? I want to help you! So badly, Rayla! But I can’t! Because I just _don’t know what’s going on_ and _you won’t tell me!_ ”

His voice had grown louder again and he paused to reign it back in. He regretted the way he pushed closer towards her face with his biting tone as her expression shifting into pensive misery.

“I—I can’t just watch you go on like this. It _hurts_ me, Rayla, to see you hurting and not be able to do anything about it! Why can’t you just _tell_ me? Just _trust_ me?”

She seemed to snap, eyes going from wide and dry to producing large, rapid tears in an instant. There was no anger there, just an overwhelming sense of piercing fear in her shouting.

“Because I have to protect you Callum! I want to tell you, and I want to have you by my side. But I can’t! Because I have to protect you. I have to keep you safe.” The panic in her voice shrank only a little with each sentence. She didn’t even bother to wipe the free-flowing tears away. 

He felt so small for yelling at her. A brick settled against his chest.

She started to shake her head as she looked away and continued explaining. “If you think I don’t _trust_ you—that I don’t have faith that you _can_ protect me...that’s not it. That’s not it _at all_ , Callum.” Her quieted voice sounded so dejected, as if she was owning up to some way she’d disappointed him and his heart crumbled to pieces at having brought that tone to her voice.

He scrambled for her hand when she reached it out towards him again. It shook even as he pressed it against his chest. Her tearful outpouring grew louder and her voice less stable again, as her whole body continued to quiver across from him too.

“I trust you _too_ much. I _know_ that you would do anything for me, and that’s the problem. I can’t let you! I can’t—I can’t watch you throw yourself off mountains for me, and in the dreams—” Her hiccuping between sobs was the final straw that made him pull her against his chest. She shook there against him instead, taking shuddering breaths while he shushed her, muttering apologies and I-love-yous.

“Rayla...you’re my entire world. You know that, right?” He whispered these things into her hair once she’d quieted some, his hands rubbing comfortingly against her shoulder. “You’re my entire world, and it’s just really _hard_ to watch you hurt so badly.”

“I’m not your entire world,” she mumbled against his chest.

“Rayla…” He hugged her tighter. Was _that_ a piece of the equation? He felt like crawling in a hole for making her cry, but she didn’t _doubt him_ now, did she? His mind raced back through what he’d said. Hadn’t it all been (poorly communicated) devotion to her? 

She sounded so wounded with her next words.

“But you are _literally_ mine, Callum.”

The puzzle pieces clicked into place as she immediately buried her face against his scarf. The silence was heavy, but he felt just the tiniest bit relieved when the wave of understanding washed over him. He frowned.

If she didn’t have him...who did she have now? His heart felt pulverized to dust now.

“Rayla, I—”

“Callum, I don’t want to—”

“—love you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m so sorry for yelling at you,” he said. She exhaled in his arms. “But...there are a couple of things I still want to say,” he continued, and she leaned a little away to look at him as she listened, the hurt flooding back into her eyes again. 

“No yelling this time, I promise.” She looked unconvinced and it occurred to him that he’d also promised not to argue. “I swear!” She nodded slightly.

“I need you to understand that thinking about you in danger, especially when I _could_ protect you...it hurts me, Rayla. So, I _get_ that it hurts you too.” She’d still looked like she’d been expecting more grief from him, but her grim expression lightened _just_ a bit as he validated her hurting.

He chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to aggravate her wounds any more than necessary. “But when you said that—that I am your _entire world_ —I realized that I don’t think I really understood how _alone_ you must feel and how _scary_ that must be.” Her eyes cut away from him and he could see that it was true, and, as terrified as he was of losing her, he knew that her fear trumped his. Not because of any gap in love or trust but because a life and a home with _him_...that was what she had left. That was what she had to depend on. All _she has to depend on_ , he thought, tears stinging his eyes again.

“I think I understand now that the worry and the wanting to protect each other...it’s different for you. So, I’ll do what you ask, Rayla. I won’t go into the portal unless I have to.” He would agree even though it hurt. She breathed a noisy sigh of relief, and her shoulders lowered. He wasn’t done, though. He touched her face, tenderly wiping at her tears, as he apologized again.

“I really didn’t mean to yell at you, and I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry,” he said, cutting himself off before he rambled too long. Callum hesitated before continuing, displeased about his impulse to attempt an inadequate explanation for his temper. “Please know that I’m only so upset because I love you, Rayla. It’s not an excuse, because it’s not okay for me to yell at you like that, but it’s true.” 

She sniffled and smiled at him, and, _finally_ , the heaviness left his chest.

“I love you too, Callum,” she responded, reaching up to reciprocate his touch with gentle caresses to his face. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear once most of the tears were managed.

“I know.” He grinned at her, and then waggled his eyebrows dramatically. “Have I ever told you how _beautiful_ you look in the moonlight like this?” She grinned back and laughed, looking away for a moment before her lips closed into a smirk.

“Oh, yeah,” she mocked sarcastically, “I’m a classic beauty, you know. Puffy-eyed, red-faced, snot-nosed...a lovely sight, I’m sure!” He moved in to kiss under one of those—admittedly—puffy eyes.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t do that,” he said, between the light kisses that he couldn’t help but put all over her face. “Especially when I’m the one who _made_ you cry.” He knew he’d be twisted up about how he’d yelled for a while, and maybe she would be too, but, in the meantime, he hoped some laughter would help her forgive him. He kept up the tiny little kisses, first all over her cheeks, then along her nose and across her forehead. Her giggles started in earnest about when he got to her ear.

“Callum!” she exclaimed, swatting at his shoulder. “That’s tickles! Cut it out!” He didn’t until she was clutching at her sides and rolling away in fitful giggles. When he finally stopped, her arms were immediately thrown around his shoulders, and she squeezed him tightly as the last little chuckles faded away. Her warmth, as he wound his arms around her waist, was soothing.

He hoped _she_ found the embrace soothing too. He rubbed his hand against her back in hopes of making it so if it wasn’t already. After all, as he’d realized, this life with him was her _home_ now, and she deserved to feel comforted and warm and happy. It’d been his pleasure to give her those things before, but he felt a sense of _responsibility_ now about it. If his home was her home, and his family was her family, and his heart was hers...he had to make sure it _felt_ like home, that it felt like family, that it felt like _love_. The way it should be. No shouting, no crying, just...love, and trust, and safety. And warmth.

“Rayla...you know how I said that human couples _do_ make promises to each other, even if it’s not as fancy or official as the whole courting thing?” he whispered into her ear while she insistently clung to his embrace. She nodded. “Can I?” 

That made her let go and look back at him expectantly, lilac eyes sparkling with delight and wide with fond affection. He shook off—or at least _delayed—_ the distracting, awestruck impulse to kiss her. He took a deep breath.

“I need you to know that I want _everything_ with you, Rayla,” he reached for her hands. “I want to promise you that: _forever_ with me—if you want it. That’s part of why all this portal stuff is so scary to me...I don’t know what I’d do if—”

His words and train of thought were immediately displaced by her lips sealed to his. She breathed in slowly as she kissed him, drawing herself closer and weaving her fingers into his hair. His arms encircled her again. He was surprised to feel a few tears prickling at his eyelids.

“Callum,” she sighed his name breathlessly when they separated, beaming at him with a serene smile. “I promise. We’ll have forever. Everything will be okay.” Their foreheads collided with a little more force than either of them had intended as they leaned toward each other. “Ow,” she laughed and he echoed. 

She pressed in closer still to nuzzle her nose against his, and he eliminated the short distance between them for another kiss with his soft fingers under her chin, pulling her lips to his. He settled into a soft rhythm against her lips, in tune with each breath and smile and touch. He wondered if she had the same warm and float-y buzz that was making his heart pound and his thoughts vanish.

When they separated, her smile dreamy and her eyes a little hazy again, she reached up to fiddle with the warm spot at the back of her head.

“Does...does yours do that too?” he asked, feeling inside of his jacket for the place where the lock of her hair stayed pinned. The braid was even warmer to the touch than usual.

“Only when you’re being extra cute,” she said, pulling his arm up and around her shoulder. She pressed her forehead into her favorite spot again, right against the side of his neck, and cuddled into his side.

“That’s weird. I think mine must be broken, then. This thing should _always_ be hot to the touch,” he said with a teasing smile, which she picked up her head to look at. He winked theatrically when she did.

“Smooth,” she commented, rolling her eyes, before pressing her lips to his cheek.

“Aren’t I just?” he joked with phony pride. She settled back down under his arm after shooting him an amused smile, and they grew quiet again for a long while.

He watched for a while as Rayla breathed calmly against him before his eyes were drawn to the bright glow of her hair and then to the source of that reflective light. 

It was his turn, it seemed, to stare at the moon for a while, and he thought about what must be going on in _Rayla’s_ reality right now. He wondered if there was any comfort for her in his newfound understanding of—a _few_ pieces of—the turmoil inside of her. He hoped that his promise to her had made a little dent in her loneliness, at least, though he didn’t know how he could remedy her fear of losing him, especially when _his_ fear of losing her was also enormous. At least he could let her _feel_ like she was keeping him safe by staying on the sidelines tomorrow night. It was a temporary solution—an illusion really: he knew he wouldn’t hesitate if she needed him.

He realized they’d ended another day, another argument without talking about the nightmares. Maybe they could just stay together again tonight—another temporary solution, another illusion that could _maybe_ keep the problem at bay, but not really _solve_ it.

He wished she would let him carry, or at least _share_ , her burden, and he wished he could just feel what she felt and just know what she knew. Then, she wouldn’t have to speak any of it, and he wouldn’t have to make her hurt by asking her too. He could _actually_ help her, and she wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. He frowned. Another illusion that he had been believing in. _Could_ he really _fix_ this for her? He could try, at least. That’s why they were doing this in the first place. He kissed her hair, soft and warm beneath his lips.

“Everything is going to be alright, Rayla,” he muttered solemnly, like yet another vow between them, bringing his other arm around to hold her there, breathing against him with her hand over his heart.

“I hope so, Callum.”

He hoped so too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...you had to know this pain was coming when you signed on for a TTM fic, right?
> 
> I hope that the love still comes through, even if these two had a really tough time in this chapter.
> 
> I do have some additional ideas to continue with some ideas in this fic, including a brief epilogue possibly. [Part of why this took so long is to set up some possibilities. ;)]
> 
> Thanks so SO much for reading! This really has been a labor of love.
> 
> As always, I'd love any feedback/comments you feel inclined to leave for me!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Weird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570065) by [blutopaz15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blutopaz15/pseuds/blutopaz15)




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